The Cause and Effect Saga - Book 9: Precinct
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Between mounting secrets, EPF campaigns, gangster activity, and Prowler sightings, everyday life at Hugh's precinct feels like a horror movie, starring one underpaid detective with one hand and an obsessive sense for justice. Things only get messier when Jezebel asks for help tracking down her sister, and their investigation leads them to an unexpected wolf...
1. Anxiety

**A/N:** Happy Cinco de Mayo, my friends! In honor of Hughy's favorite holiday, I bring you another mini story. Now, I'll say upfront that while the guys are mentioned and this deals with the world I have set up with the cast, ' _Precinct_ ' follows Hugh, a NYPD OC. He insisted that this step in the over-arching plotline was his to take, and I didn't deny him. So, enjoy?

P.S. - There's a running gag with every scene in this book. Kudos if you spot it. ;)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 01:** **ANXIETY**

Hugh Reese glanced down to notice two things: one, his pistol was actually holstered at his right hip, and two, the arm that reached for it ended at a stub. ' _The whole upside to losing my non-dominate hand was supposed to be that it isn't hard to forget its gone. How long will this damn ghost limb shit last?_ '

"Hugh!"

The African-American snapped back to reality with a jolt. The blinding sun left him disoriented, and he swayed forward, only to remember an iron railing kept him from falling off the retainer wall along Eastman Park. With a sigh, his senses settled until the cacophony of screams registered as gleeful children prancing through sprinklers and the hold on his forearm seemed less threatening.

"Hugh," Marina said again.

The detective faced his wife then patted her hand, just to confirm she was real. "You shouldn't sneak up on me, Rina."

The Latina made a face. "We've been standing here for the last five minutes.

' _We? Oh, right._ ' Tobias flailed in the baby carrier strapped to his mother's busty chest, and he cooed as his father stroked his cheek. Unfortunately, the shaky movement made Marina frown rather than smile.

"You gotta relax," she added. "Next thing you know, you'll be jumping out of your skin every time a cat knocks over a trashcan."

"Been there. Done that. Dropped my taco. Poor taco."

"Don't turn this into a joke."

"But it was a Supreme Nacho Dream, limited time only."

"Maybe you should take up Wendell on his offer."

"I can't take a vacation."

"Why not?"

"It'd be pointless. I can't even chill here, in a damn park I see from my house every day."

"That's my point!" With a sigh, Rina absentmindedly ran her fingers through Tobi's afro, tan features glistening with sweat and worry.

Hugh saw beauty in how she cared and combed back several fly-a-ways from her messy bun. "It'd be worse if I took off, Rina. I feel better when I can watch the EPF's movements firsthand."

"Why? So they can find _more_ ways to set you up?"

"That was Kyle. And so long as Doughnut values his promotion, he'll make sure the record stays that way. Besides, we can't afford to fall behind; if we slip-up just _one_ time," Hugh's voice cracked, "Bishop will get me back. If that happens...I'll lose more than a hand."

Watching Rina's worry morph into indignation was a lot like watching a cat turn from playful to aggravated. "You wouldn't have been in that position in the first place had you just kept your head down for once."

The detective half-shrugged. "Can't help it; it's my nature. I need to stay in the loop."

"That 'loop' is the reason you walk on eggshells every day."

"It's a sacrifice I gotta make."

"You don't have to _do_ anything."

"If I don't, who will? The Hamatos have few allies."

"The Phantoms are vigilantes. A cop shouldn't condone them."

"What cop in history hasn't tweaked the law in their favor? These guys don't expect any rewards or look for personal gain. Yet they help. Far as I'm concerned, they're less crooked than most cops I've dealt with lately."

"I'm scared, Hugh."

The man tensed from his receding hairline to his dress shoes, chilled despite the Summer heat. "Hey." He reached for his wife and the way she leaned into him, so pliable and insecure, left a lump in his throat.

"You already led a stressful life as a detective," she said into his damp, button-up shirt. "You've lost so much"—her fingertips brushed his lips where he had lost a canine then his bubbled arm stump—"and you could've lost more. Had Bishop gone through with his threat—"

"Stop." Hugh pushed his wife back with both arms then caught her brown gaze. "We talked about this. The Hamatos understood, too."

"He—"

"Won't touch you or Tobi. Or Kai. We'll _all_ see to that." Rina disagreed; Hugh could tell in the way she crinkled her nose. "Look at it this way: nothing I do now will change that I'm on Bishop's shit-list. I'm sorry, but it's true."

"I hate seeing you give so much of yourself."

"I know."

"You can't even enjoy your day off with us."

"What?" The detective grinned as he pulled his family close to rub his nose into the crooks of their sweaty necks. "I enjoy every minute I spend with you guys. Almost as much as tacos."

The Latina hit his shoulder, which left it stinging. "Do you see Kaiya?"

"Uh." Sunrays blinded Hugh, although the eight-year-old's vibrant hair couldn't be missed. He pointed at an arched monkey-bar set beside the sprinklers, where Kai effortlessly swung around to the amazement of the other kids.

"She can't help showing-off, can she?" Rina asked.

"Least the playground's intact."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. She's been better with her control since Leonardo started training her."

"To become a ninja."

"Oh, don't be so sour. It's a good thing. She's seen less and less of Doctor Vigue, and with as much energy as she has, it needs to be channeled. Why not bottleneck it into something that can save her life somewhere down the road?"

Rina sighed, and Tobi protested the sudden restriction with a whine. "She has a hard life ahead of her, too." The Latina spoke lowly as if to hide her concern below the children's delight. "One of these days, she'll need to be pulled from school. When others notice she isn't aging."

"She ages," Hugh added sternly. "Just slower than others."

"And what will that do to her? Will it hinder her mental maturity? Will she wind up a twenty-five-year-old woman in a kid's body? Will the drug even out? Will she grow exponentially in a short time, become a teenager before she's even a preteen?"

"Those are questions Doctor Olson and our other brains are studying. Recro-12 has its secrets, though. Melody may've helped stabilize it, but she didn't create it. Otherwise, Splinter would've been cured long before they needed to break into Oswald."

"You should have at least _some_ difficulty saying that."

"Why?"

"You're a cop."

"Hey, that misdemeanor was all hearsay. I never saw proof. Did you?"

Rina fought a laugh but caved when her husband wiggled his brows. "Idiot."

"You love me."

"Because it's too much work to train another man."

"Ouch!" Hugh chuckled, tickling below his son's chin. "After we drop Kai off, I have a dinner set-up."

"With who?" Judging by her flat tone, Rina knew she wasn't the guest of honor.

"Damien and Kenneth."

"Oh." The woman gave a wry smile. "They haven't been by for pancakes lately. They okay?"

"They've been a little skittish since enrolling in the Academy, but big brother Hugh has them under his wing."

"Yeah." Rina's smile died. "That won't stop Hun from gunning for their heads, though. What if he hires a hit-man?"

"Well, it's not out of the realm of possibilities. Still, it's barely been a year since his assault. Even a gangster will need more time than that before he decides to tempt suicide again."

"Why don't you guys have dinner at our place instead?"

"As much as I'd love that, we're meeting at the usual hidey-hole."

"Taco Joe's."

"The only one in Manhattan."

"You're turning me down for tacos."

" _Special_ tacos." Hugh stuck his tongue out in play as his wife rolled her eyes, though when she looked back up, both understood location had nothing to do with his choice. "I won't be long," he said. "I'll be home in time to put Tobi down for the night."

"Promise? You know what a pain he is when you don't."

"That's because I'm his favorite. Right, Tobi?" The nine-month-old baby popped his father in the nose when the older man bent down for a kiss. It was meant with love, though, and Hugh smiled as he rubbed his face and straightened back up. "I'll text you when I get there and when I leave. But we still have a few hours. What do you say we get ice cream?"

"Only if I can have a double scoop."

"Your wish is my command. Come on, let's go bribe the monkey off the playground."

* * *

Damien and Kenneth cleaned up nice for a couple of young men who had run with the Purple Dragons not long ago. Ken kept his shaggy hair dyed green, but he had removed his facial piercings and regularly saw a dermatologist to look more presentable in uniform. Damien, meanwhile, seemed restricted out of street clothes and tugged at his unbuttoned collar as Hugh divvied out their orders at Taco Joe's.

"Would it kill ya to eat somewhere else?" Damien asked.

Hugh glanced across the booth, a taco end already crammed in his mouth. "Maybe," he said while chewing.

The younger African-American looked down at his plate then began to pick shredded cheese off his tacos to give to Ken. "I'm starting to regret ever calling you."

"Oh, stop the lies, Hanson." Hugh swallowed the savory meat and warmed nacho sauce. "You like not being under Hun anymore."

"I just traded one hell for another."

"The Academy isn't _that_ bad."

"You only say that because you haven't gone there in, like, thirty years."

"Excuse me? Try—" The detective considered the math then blanched under Damien's smirk.

"Eighty-nine was a long time ago, Old Man."

Hugh pointed a long finger at the student, taco shell crunching. " _Never_ bring that up again."

"Or what? You'll hit me with your walker?"

"I'll have you know I vigorously work out every taco I eat. I don't need a walker quiet yet."

"Yeah? What's your lap time?"

" I don't need to be subjected to this kind've—"

"It's over ten minutes, isn't it?"

The detective glowered and stuffed the remainder of his taco in his mouth just to have an excuse not to answer.

"Ha!" Damien slapped the booth table. " You do worse than Ken!"

"M—my time isn't th—that bad," Ken grumbled.

His friend sent him a dry look. "You may as well be a five-hundred-pound asthma patient, Miles."

"Leave him be," Hugh said. Though, admittedly, he was just guarding his honor through the green-haired cadet. "Anyone been harassing you kids on campus?"

"Don't insult us, Old Man."

"The Academy may be a few years behind me—"

"A few?"

" _But_ I remember freshman life. Being an ex-gangbanger only complicates things."

"Those guys can do whatever they want; they got nothin' on PD Initiation." Damien trailed off with his focus fixed on his taco shells, which were now little more than meat and lettuce in an oversized shell.

Hugh took pity on the young men—in part because he didn't want to know what atrocities earned them spots under Hun—and picked up his second taco. "Has Samuel approached you at all?"

"Sa—Samuel?" Ken echoed.

"Samuel Renold. The Manhattan Property Office guy. You know," Hugh's voice lowered as he chewed, "the guy that saw me knock out Mahoney."

"Right, right." Damien waved a hand. "The dude that kept pointing out how hard it'll be for us to become cops."

"I talked to him about that."

"Which is why we haven't seen him as much, I guess. He still blackmailing you for lunches?"

"Don't be jealous."

"Oh, you have no idea." The ex-gangster laughed hollowly. "Ignorance is bliss."

"He isn't totally ignorant."

"Ignorant enough. He wasn't as lucky as the rest of us, being dragged into your little underground crusade."

"Nothing wrong with being up to speed."

"All I wanted was an out. I never asked to be a Phantom ally."

"Well, you are. So is Ken." Hugh glanced towards the silent cadet, who wrung his hands against his dress shirt. "And if not their ally then mine. There are so few, especially in the force, who we can rely on."

"We aren't really part of the force yet."

"It's enough."

"For?"

"Listen: with what happened with Kyle last year, I can't afford any more risks. There are four people I trust in my precinct. Then you two. That's it."

"Ken lives doped-up on Clozapine, and _he's_ one of your go-to guys?"

"We don't choose what life hands us, we deal with it. I know it's hard, but I need you guys to stick with the Academy. I..." The detective sighed. "I need help."

"That's an understatement." With a snort, Damien leaned back against his booth bench, arms folded to where his rolled up sleeves revealed his PD brand. "Your a minnow hoping to over-power a shark."

"Nice imagery. They teach that in the Academy nowadays?"

"It's crazy."

"The alternative is we do nothing. You've already proven you can't do that, Damien."

The younger African-American groaned into his hands. He didn't look back up until Ken stole some food from his untouched plate. Hugh wondered when the green-haired cadet had finished his meal, and when the man glanced down, he saw that he was one taco shy. ' _Little thief._ '

"Two of those players you're talking about haven't even come back to work," added Damien.

"Well, Physical Therapy isn't something that happens overnight." Hugh caught his bitterness with an apologetic look; the cadets weren't at fault for his friends' trials. "Sorry."

"Me too," Damien grumbled. "I know McGinnis..."

"Donna postponed her reinstatement because she insisted on walking into Nineteenth with him."

"So his retirement's official?"

"It's been official, just not on paper until the last few months. Commissioner Powell gave him the decency of a chance, but the moment they handed over that Combat Cross I think we all knew the truth."

"It's amazing he lived at all. I saw the footage."

"You did?"

Hugh leaned forward, and Damien stared down at his plate, now empty. "It's part of the new curriculum. Being partnered with the EPF, we get inside details on a bunch of weird shit. At least basics. Cyborgs have become common knowledge, and Prowlers are like the new rats in the city. So we've been tasked with studying a lot of surveillance from the Twenty-Twelve Attack."

"Figures. How much bullshit are they shoving down your throats?"

"I tuned most of it out."

"Sure that's been great for your test scores."

"Stuff it. I pass."

"What about you, Ken?" Hugh's smile landed on Kenneth, who swallowed thickly.

"I—I—I'm fine," the Cadet answered, licking his sauce-stained fingers. "Um, I—I can be outside longer. I got to th—the shrink they want. It's...fine."

"Damien said you're still on Clozapine?"

Ken's green hair bobbed with his nod.

"Any idea how long that'll...?"

Damien caught Hugh's stare. "A while, probably. He's a spazz. But he gets weekly therapy sessions, and that guy seems to think he's improving, so."

"Stay on top of things," Hugh told Ken. "You'll make it."

Ken flashed an awkward smile, scared yet also thankful, but it fell when his attention turned upwards. Damien followed suit, dark skin contorted as he slid out of the booth. ' _The hell?_ ' Turning, Hugh came eye-to-hip with an athletic woman who kept Damien at arm's length, no matter how hard he tried to hug her.

"Jezebel?" he asked.

Jezebel struggled to keep control, and it strained her voice, "Hugh, I need help. I can't find Miriam."


	2. Ward

**A/N:** Their norm is abnormal. Hugh does his best to navigate it all, though.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 02:** **WARD**

Hugh watched his silent passenger from the corner of his eye, somewhat sheepish despite his just means to postpone picking up his undercover Cruiser. "Sorry about last night," he said. "I had already promised to put Tobi down and—"

"It's fine," Jezebel countered. "Not like the place would've been open for visitors anyway."

"Still. I didn't mean to seem short or—"

"I said it's fine."

"Damien—"

"Just _drop it_."

"Right." The detective exhaled as his fingers tapped the steering wheel in tandem with a pop song from the radio, but the consistent straightaway gave him little else to do until FDR Drive split into their needed exit. "So, when was the last time you saw your sister?"

"I already told you."

"Humor me. I brought the case files, too; make sure you're consistent."

Jez snorted. "You don't believe me?"

"It's literally my job to assume everyone is lying."

"I'm not."

"That's what my gut says, but for the sake of a biased-free investigation, I gotta go about this by-the-book."

"I came to you because you _aren't_ so by-the-book."

"You saying I'm a bad cop?"

"I'm saying if the book hasn't helped yet, why'd I bother tracking you down to that cheap taco joint?"

Hugh left the steering wheel in the care of his stub arm to point at the honey-haired woman. "Insult Taco Joe's one more time, you'll be swimming across the river."

"Their tacos aren't even real," Jez said with a sneer.

"I can touch 'em. I can taste 'em. They're real."

"They're Americanized trash. You wanna taste a true taco? Use the recipe Mami made." Jezebel's tan face lit up with a smirk for all of two seconds before reality weighed her back down.

Hugh saw her sigh, running a hand through her pixie-cut hair as his attention returned to the stop-and-go traffic. "Hard to believe it's been almost two years since they passed, huh?"

Jez growled, although her voice was tender, "That's another reason I'm so worried. I don't want Mir to go through an anniversary without me."

"Wasn't the last anniversary what pushed her to stop seeing you?" A female host rambled from radio, but though she was the only noise, Hugh knew the Dominican passenger glared. "It's a legit question," he added, "and I need a legit answer."

"What difference does it make?"

"All the difference. You asked for this favor. Because of that, it'll be assumed that I comprised the whole thing with a conflict of interest."

"Like it matters. This won't go to court."

"But it's on _my_ record. I already stuck my neck out to pull the files from archives. Doesn't it tell you something that Donna's replacement kept it hidden, even though you had asked her to put it on my desk?"

"Well, yeah."

Hugh sent Jez a cursory glance. "I think she was trying to keep me outta trouble. I should thank her, even though I'm also pissed it never made it to me. Come to think of it, why didn't you ever call? Not even a text."

"I filed the report the moment I found out she had left the Center. By then, she had been gone almost two weeks."

"You weren't notified?"

"She removed me as her personal contact." The Dominican sighed and took a moment to recollect her thoughts. "When I found out, I went to your precinct then began my own investigation."

"I take it you exhausted your resources."

"For a while, I was sure I could find her on my own. That's not the case anymore. She's gone off the grid. Like, she was released then walked into another dimension."

"At the rate New York's going, I wouldn't be surprised if an inter-dimensional wormhole showed up over the city and began sucking up buildings."

"Sounds like a movie."

"Our lives have _turned_ into a movie."

"A shitty one." Jez scoffed—a cynical act. "The next anniversary is coming up. I wanna find her before then."

"And we come back to my other questions."

"My statements are in those files beside your seat. Or do your detective skills stop at your mouth?"

"If you don't want to go through this with me, we could always turn around and find another cop."

"No. I don't trust them. They're shady."

"I can be shady."

"Pfft, yeah, sure."

"I keep lots of secrets."

"Somehow, that doesn't make _you_ shady. Obnoxious, not shady."

"Well, this 'obnoxious' detective wants to know when you last saw Miriam, and if the death anniversary pushed her to cut ties with you." The passenger groaned, and Hugh jerked the Cruiser when her seat fell back, and her sneakers hit the dash. "Easy! I've already had to fix that once."

"Last time I saw Mir was the first anniversary," Jez admitted. "I tried to talk to her, apologize. She...she wouldn't hear it."

"Damien told me you regret telling her the truth."

"I thought she deserved it. He convinced me she did."

"Now you wish you hadn't listened."

"What I _wish_ is that I never joined the PDs. I wish I had stayed home and never been involved with—" The Dominican shuddered from her body to her voice, speaking breathlessly. "They killed my baby brother, Mami. Shot 'em. And Mir blames those turtles and me for what happened."

"You..." Hugh had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road as they eased passed a street light. "You were there?"

"Should've been. I left before it all happened, went drinking with D."

"Then you—"

Jezebel sneered. "Don't you dare defend me. I went to sleep that night convinced the gang was my family. And by the time I made a choice, realized what had happened, it was too late. Mir _should_ blame me."

"Who are you trying to convince? Miriam or yourself?"

"I...I don't know. It's like I get why she hates me, but—"

"You don't want her to hate you. I understand."

"Right."

"Hey, I wasn't born a handsome six-foot-one law enforcer, ya know? I've done my share of stupid, regretful things. I've been selfish, hurt people."

"You didn't get them killed."

"You don't know that." The detective eyed Jez, daring her to refute. She didn't, so he focused on switching lanes to Exit 17. "I have a little sister, too," he added while following the curved ramp. "Taylor. I abandoned her for Mia and New York. Ebon, ugh, our dad, was a difficult person. Controlling, verbally abusive, dependant. Our mother couldn't handle it after he lost his job. She left. And he never even told us her name..." Head shaking, Hugh straightened the steering wheel as they approached the metal beams arched over Kennedy Bridge and braced himself for spontaneous brake lights. "We lived off his workman comp and disability because he couldn't fix cars anymore. That just sent him downhill, and I left Tay with the burden of caring for him."

"Damn, that _was_ a shitty thing to do."

"Worse part is I never went back. Never called or emailed. I got sucked up in my troubles here and—" Wow; the more he thought about his afro-haired sister, the more Hugh felt like scum below the bridge beams. "Ebon died of a heart attack sometime this spring. Tay didn't call about it or invite me to the funeral. I only found out because of a whim. Just felt like checking Nashua news that day."

"You still haven't talked to her?"

"Tried. Before she cursed me out and hung up, she told me the only attendants at the funeral were Tay and Kelly."

"Kelly?"

"My niece, apparently. Eleven-years-old; no idea what she looks like."

"That's..."

"Go on, say it."

"Sad."

"Agreed." Hugh laughed, however morbidly, and smiled at Jezabel. "So you see why you're such an inspiration to me."

The Dominican snorted.

"It's true. You're searching for your sister, despite the odds, past, and fact that she could return to jail. We'll find her first, though, Jez. And before you know it, you'll be ready to take on law school again."

"I dunno about that. I ruined my record pretty badly."

"Hey, if Damien and Ken can survive the Academy, you can be a lawyer. I know _I'll_ need your help later on. Now, let's go see what this doc has to say."

* * *

 _'What in Taco Joe's name made me think this was a good idea?_ ' Hugh tapped his dress shoe repeatedly and sucked in a breath that he soon regretted. A thick clinical stench burned down his throat, which brought unwanted attention from others in the yellow-painted waiting room.

"Troubles?" Jezebel asked.

Hugh disregarded the onlookers and the Dominican. "Fine."

"You don't look it."

"I'm not a fan of medical facilities. Any kind, really. It was a challenge being there for Rina when Tobi was born...Don't tell her that."

"But you drove me here."

"Ya know, reading 'Manhattan Psychiatric Center' on paper and walking into a compound that looks to come out of a horror movie are two very different things. I've never even _been_ to Wards Island before. It's like Alcatraz for crazies." The detective whispered his last words, just in case any of the people peppered around the duo was a future resident. "How much longer did he say he'd—"

"Mister Reese?"

Hugh twisted towards a reinforced door in one of the room's corners, where a petite nurse looked over the scarce crowd. "Detective Reese, actually," he said. "I'm here on business."

The nurse looked unimpressed and overworked. She waved for him to follow, and he couldn't help jumping at the crisp click when the door latched behind them. ' _Relax, Hugh, this isn't the EPF. Breathe. Just not through your nose._ '

"Hon, the appointment isn't with—" The nurse cut herself short with a sigh as Jezebel took the lead as if she had the route memorized. They walked down four different halls to an ajar door with a golden plaque screwed to it. Hugh hardly had time to read the engraved letters before the nurse ushered him into an office not much smaller than the waiting room yet better smelling. "Your ten o'clock, Doctor. Enjoy"

"Ah, Detective, come in," a matured voice added.

"This is some workplace," Hugh said. He studied the overflowing bookshelves and colorful tapestries hung between the windows as well as the knickknacks cluttering every available space on the doctor's colossal desk. He did this partly in the interest of the African decor and partly for clues of the kind of man he would be interviewing.

"It doubles as a house," the doctor told him. "I hardly go anywhere else. You understand."

Hugh's attention turned frontward to see a gray-haired African with downturned eyes and a well-trained grin, fixated in a leather seat that cradled his well-fed figure. "I'm not here for a session. Just answers."

The doctor laughed. "I don't need a session to know that much. Living at work basically came with our job descriptions, no?"

Well, he wasn't wrong, and Hugh half-smiled as he shook the man's large hand. "Detective Hugh Reese, NYPD."

"Doctor Mica Wells, Psy.D."

"So your door said. Sorry to barge in on such short notice."

Wells shook his head. "I expected this."

"You did?"

"Jezebel said she'd return with someone who'd make me talk."

Hugh eyed Jezebel. The Dominican had gone quiet at his side, maybe to reiterate that the detective led matters or due to a past argument. Either way, her glare let her opinion known, but Hugh postponed any chastising remarks to save face with the doctor.

"I'll tell you what I told her," Wells continued. "I won't comprise my doctor-patient confidentiality."

"His job is to find Mir," Jez said. "You have no choice."

Hugh pushed down the finger the Dominican pointed Wells' way then sat in a velvet chair he gestured to. "He can still uphold his promises and give us answers. Right, Doctor?"

Wells hummed—a dubious sound. "That depends on the questions, Detective."

"Nothing detailed. Give me the basics."

"Like?"

"How long did Miriam stay here?"

Jez brought her glare to Hugh as she took the second velvet seat. While the question was obvious, he was surprised the would-be lawyer didn't understand or care that it laid a foundation for future prodding.

Judging by Wells' controlled expression, he did, and he knew better than to dismiss the conversation so soon. "Miriam was admitted to this Center not long after her arrest in January last year. She was at first admitted to Lennox Hospital for extensive injuries due to torture by gangsters, and after a mental evaluation deemed psychologically inept. She wasn't pardoned from her kidnapping charges, though her claim to temporary insanity brought her to me. Her sentence was to taper off once she filled our criteria for release; ask Judge Felton."

"According to our records," Hugh flipped through the files he had forgotten he tucked into the back of his waistband, "Judge Felton said she could be released only under strict circumstances. She was to remain on house arrest , continue her therapy, and agree to spontaneous visits from her parole officer."

"Yes."

"But she never contacted you after leaving the Center, her parole officer hasn't seen her since he dropped her off at her new apartment, which she hasn't been in for months."

"Well, I don't really have control over that, do I, Detective?"

"She destroyed her ankle bracelet. Does that sound like someone 'reformed'?"

"Just what are you insinuating?" Doctor Wells kept smiling, even when his eyes narrowed into dark, angled slits behind his wrinkles. "I'm not in charge of my patients' actions; I only help."

"Does 'helping' mean excusing a young woman before she's ready?"

"She was ready. In accordance with my interview."

"She has a knack for manipulation," Jezebel interjected. "If you really spent all this time with her, you'd know that."

The black doctor sent her a look like he was laughing on the inside. "She was a miserable patient when she first came to me. Raving about mutant turtles, cyborgs, and gangsters, and how they ruined her life. That included you, Jezebel."

"I left the scene before—" Jez curled her hands on Wells' cluttered desk, and Hugh could tell it took all her willpower not to push over his statue collection at her corner.

"That lie you fed her—"

"It wasn't a lie!"

Wells' facade fell. "How could you do such a thing? The only family you have left in the world, and you added pressure to the stresser of your mother's and brother's death anniversary by spouting nonsense about vigilante mutants failing to save them. Why didn't you tell her _you_ were the one at fault?"

"I..."

"You could've been there to stop them. You left. Turned your back."

The Dominican growled, fists shaking. "I didn't live at home anymore. I didn't know Mami was taking David out there!"

"Therein lies the issue."

"Okay, Doc." Hugh waved a hand between the two and forced a grin even though the tense atmosphere lingered. "We're here for facts, not an evaluation."

"Jezebel makes it easy," Doctor Wells said sorely. "Listen: I can't or won't say anything about what Miriam confided in me. I will tell you the root of her troubles leads back to Jezebel."

" _Me_?"

"You toyed with her emotional psyche for as long as she could remember. It only worsened over the years. She's vulnerable, a wounded young woman who deserves more than a cage. The way I see it, you should've been the one arrested and hauled to an institute. Mutants. Ha!"

Hugh heard Jez's sharp hiss in time to catch her fists. She struggled while they both stood from their velvet seats, making a strangled sound between a roar and sob as the detective whispered, "Don't make me put you in the Cruiser's backseat. Please."

The honey-haired woman conceded, and after a final glare at her nemesis, left in a huff to vent outside the office.

"See?" Wells asked. "Unstable."

"Doctor," Hugh faced the black man with as much composure as he could muster, "please leave her out of this equation."

"She's a big part of it. But fine."

"So what you just said will be your formal statement?"

"Yes."

"You have no clue where Miriam could've gone? No idea she planned to run?"

"Not reporting such intent would be an infraction against my reputation. That said..." The doctor leaned forward, elbows on the table and short tie dangling from his dress shirt. "I'm not surprised she wanted to disappear. I can't blame her, either."

"So it's not in your interest to help us find her?"

"Of course it is; she's still my patient."

"Missing patient."

Wells leaned back in his leather seat, which squeaked with his weight. "Fact remains that I don't know where she is. Sorry, Detective, you'll have to take your investigation elsewhere."

Hugh drew in a slow breath. Thankfully, the office reeked of Lavender instead of antiseptics, although the scent did little to ease the tension in his muscles.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Wells," he said. "We'll be in contact."

That was a promise, and the black men forewent a handshake; it was obvious neither wanted to touch the other and Hugh met Jezebel in the hall with an exaggerated sigh.

"I'm going to need a taco pick-me-up when we get out of this hell hole," he grumbled.

"Stonewalled, huh?" Jez asked, upper lip curled.

"Not quite. While he may not be directly involved, it goes unsaid that he sensed she might pull something like this."

"That's what I've been trying to tell people."

"Don't worry, Jez. We have other resources."


	3. Dinner

**A/N:** I'm sorry, Raph.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 03:** **DINNER**

Life at the Hamato fortress resembled a circus. Hugh had a hard time believing Splinter could sleep through Kaiya chattering on to Leonardo and the amused babies who watched the pets run around the joint like an old-style cartoon.

"How do you get anything done?" Hugh asked Donatello.

The purple-masked mutant reluctantly tore his attention away from the notebook he studied to glance at the detective across the living room. "Huh?"

"This place. How do you concentrate?"

"By tuning out. A skill I learned long ago."

"It ain't so bad, is it?" added Michelangelo. He sat beside his friend on the couch opposite of the one where Don laid and nudged the man with a padded elbow. "Otherwise, you'd turn down our dinner invitations."

"Maybe I should start."

"If you did that, Tobi would miss out on his dates."

Hugh felt his son wiggle as if to tell his father he disproved of the possibility. The man looked down with a smile when Tobias batted Selene's four-fingered hand, recalling how playful the two had always been since they first met.

"Shit like this makes me feel weird," Raphael spat. The red-masked mutant looked more surly since he lost his eye and even without an eye-patch, Nyx seemed just as displeased in his lap.

' _Must be the genes._ '

"What do ya mean, Raphy?"

"Dinners? Play dates?"

"Point?"

"House wifey people do this shit. We're men! We should be out _there_ , not—" Raph stopped short when he caught Selene's stare. "N—no, no, no, don't—"

A light sniffle sounded then silent waterworks as Selene's orange-masked uncle tried to bounce her into a better mood. "Raph!"

"What? Ain't my fault the girl cries at everythin'!"

"You're her father! You should be one of the _last_ people to make her cry!"

The sour ninja groaned then offered an arm to his mute daughter. Selene, however, leaned away, ignoring the comfort in favor of Tobi and Mikey. Hugh noticed Raph twitch with the faintest trace of hurt when he leaned back in his loveseat, though pride meant he wouldn't beg for attention.

"The only one 'a us wit'out a kid hangin' off our arms is Brainiac."

Don gave an exaggerated sigh from the second couch. When he lifted his notebook, which he never ceased reading, Hugh could see peeps of pale blonde hair and a little hand laid on the mutant's plastron.

"So _that's_ where Meg disappeared to," Hugh said. "Good; I don't have to play Dingdong Ditch at Blaine's door to avoid explaining I only have half his kids."

"I got tired of urging her to play with her sister," Don explained. "Guess it's not that big a deal. She stalks me but sticks with observing. I kind'a like watching her face as she tries to figure out what I'm doing."

"Another genius in the works, perhaps?" Mikey teased.

Don shrugged, although Hugh had the distinct impression that the technician was keen on the possibility of a protégé.

"Dammit, Pez!"

Hugh turned to Leonardo when he heard squawks and grunts. He wasn't surprised to see Pez circling the mutant's feet nor the agitated parrot perched on the rim of his shell. However, he and Kaiya carried trays of popcorn when the detective never even knew they had left the room.

"Pez-kun, bad boy!" Nia chided. The piranha-monster tucked his thin tail, hooves clicking as he ran to the artist's side. She twisted while they walked to give him that 'I love you but knock it off' look then sent the group a bright smile. "Dessert's here."

"Desserts are usually sweet," Mikey noted.

"It was my turn to pick. If you don't want it, I can always give it to Pez."

"No!" The Jokester reached for the bowl Nia offered. "Come to Papa."

"Actually," added Don, "we haven't had popcorn in a while."

Nia nodded. "Not since before Coyo came."

"Ah," Mikey said with a Cheshire grin. "You wanted to see Coyo's face while it popped, huh?"

The brunette's smile widened. "She was like a little curious cat. It was so cute!"

"How _is_ Coyo?" Hugh asked. He watched Raph take a bowel from Kai and play keep-away with his grabby daughter. "It wasn't brought up at dinner much."

"I think that's because we live with constant updates," Mikey answered. "Sorry."

"Leo!" Coyo screamed from the kitchen. The blue-masked ninja set down his tray of milk cups on one of the two coffee tables then sighed before heeding the call with Yo fixated on his shoulder and Kai fixated on his heels.

"Must've dropped something again," Nia said.

"That happen often?" Hugh asked her.

"Yeah, she can't reach her feet; she's eighteen weeks along and already looks like I did just before the twins were born."

"Which could mean many things," a dull voice added. Melody's robotic figure sent a jolt through the detective, even though he should've been deadened; she materialized from thin air almost as often as the ninjas.

"What do you mean, Mel-neechan?" Nia took a leather seat beside her husband, Pez curling between her waist and the armrest. "The babies will stay small, right?" she continued. "Like mine?"

"Fetuses experience a massive growth in the last trimester of a pregnancy. Coyo could have anywhere from three to five months left. Our only other basis for a hybrid pregnancy is yours, yet that does not mean that will set the average for any others. Gavin and I are prepping plans for a C-Section, should it come to that. Though Coyo insists on giving birth naturally."

Hugh quirked a brow at Melody's odd expression. "What's wrong with that?"

"Complications aside? She wants them delivered in the river."

"Like, submerged?"

"She claims it is how women in her tribe give birth."

"The kids won't...drown?"

Don snort-laughed. "Babies spend months not breathing as we do. It doesn't become an instinct for them until their air passages are cleared and they begin crying."

"My concern is the river's temperature," added Melody. "She is expected to give birth anytime from October to December."

"Why not just build an indoor pool?" Hugh jested. But he was the only one who chuckled. "You guys already considered that?"

Don looked up from his notebook with relaxed features. "We have a few things on our improvements list. We have some leftover leeway with Baker and with three other kids on the way, we need to start planning a better underground network."

"Like your old place?"

The genius nodded. "We can't build up. Nor do we want to. Mine and Mel's bedroom is already down by the Lab, but everyone else is above ground. I've been fortifying the place with disguised security measures. Still..."

"I like being up top," Mikey added, munching on popcorn.

"I don't," Raph grumbled. He noticed Nia's frown then amended, "but I wouldn't leave Ni 'n the girls alone."

"We'll see what happens," Don continued. "We can't change the fact that we don't have near as many bedrooms as we'll need, especially if we have more kids later on."

"More?" Raph gave a laugh that sounded forced as Leonardo returned, Coyo-less, Kaiya-less, and parrot-less.

"There you are," Mikey said. "We were about to send a search party."

The blue-masked ninja looked sick. "I was getting Coyo situated in bed. Kai's helping."

"Was she done with us?"

"Not feeling good. And when she doesn't sleep, I don't sleep."

"Just think," the jokester lit up with mirth, "this is _before_ ya got three infants crying at once."

"They won't be the only ones crying," Leo mumbled. He fell into a seat, arms falling over the sides and legs scraping backward with his sudden weight. "I'm never having sex again."

Raph tossed several pieces of popcorn at the exhausted leader. "Ya won't last, Bro. Trust me. Just gotta take things carefully. Eh, Ni?

Nia ducked her head as she stuffed her mouth with food.

"Ni?"

"Well..."

"Oh, no." The hothead waved his free hand so wildly, Nyx complained. "No, no, no, no, no. No! You're on birth control!"

"Helps if you remember to take it," Melody added behind Donny's couch.

"I remember!" Nia cried. "Mostly. I just...doubted if I took it or not a few times. Didn't want to overdose."

The cyborg nodded. "A founded concern."

"Are ya _kiddin'_ me?"

"No," Melody told Raph. "In high doses, birth control can cause nausea, vomiting, cramps, headaches, and bleeding. It also increases the risk of Ectopic pregnancies."

"What?"

"Fetuses outside the uterus."

"No, not that!" Nyx whined more at her father's booming voice. "I mean, is she really— _already_? But we just—wait. Does this mean we're havin' anoddah set 'a twins?"

"Unlikely."

"Turtle Luck don't give a shit about statistics, Gray. Is she havin'—"

"It is a single child."

"Oh, thank God." Raph sunk into his loveseat a lot like Leonardo had done, sounding both relieved and dismayed. He wanted to cry, Hugh remembered that feeling well, although Nia's sniffles sobered him up in a heartbeat. "Ni." Too late; by the time Raph lifted his head, Nia had slammed her popcorn bowl on the coffee table then stormed upstairs. "Shit."

"Someone's in trouble," Mikey sang.

The hothead sent him a death glare that only earned a laugh. Silent, he scooped up Selene from Michelangelo, no matter how much Tobias protested, and stalked after his hurt wife.

"Bet you a taco he's gunna beg forgiveness," Mikey whispered at Hugh.

The detective snorted. "That's a fool's bet. And if anyone deserves tacos, it's me."

"You always say that."

"Do not."

"I'm sure you dream of tacos."

"Not really."

"What's your favorite holiday?"

"Cinco de Mayo."

"'Cuz the tacos, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a taco freak."

"Leave me to my vices, whatever they may be; you have pizza."

The jokester shook his head. "Aw, man. this is crazy, innit? Nia getting pregnant again so soon? He or she will have the same birth year as the twins, even though they aren't triplets. Who'd a thought?"

Silence.

"Oh, come on! Who knew?"

"I performed the pregnancy test," Melody said.

"I reconfirmed it," added Don.

Mike faced Leo, who rubbed his nose bridge, saying, "I overheard her talking with Coyo."

"Am I the _only_ one besides Raphy who didn't know beforehand?"

"Hey, I'm in your boat," Hugh defended.

"You don't count."

"Um, ouch."

"You don't live here, Dude. Like, Mamas A and M don't know either, right? Or Gavin?" Mikey waited for the group to shake their heads before continuing, "And Splinter's asleep, so that leaves...Hoshi?"

"Sophia may have found the test results and not cared," Melody replied. "It was hard to tell what she was doing with the paper scraps by that infernal Hover Board."

Don's eyes found his wife. "What was she doing with my Hover Board?"

The cyborg shrugged.

" _Figo_!" Everyone in the living room jumped at the shrill voice over the intercom system, and Sophia neither waited for Mikey to reply nor calmed herself before she added, " _Where the fuck is Cuddles' food_?"

The orange-mask mutant jumped to his feet with a clap. "Duty calls."

"Wolf-wolf," Hugh teased.

"Says the man often used as a kids' chauffeur."

"Touché." The detective shared a final laugh with the jokester before the snapping of a closed notebook brought his attention to Donatello.

"I'm going to check my Hover Board," he said.

"Wait, Don, I'll come too." Hugh handed Tobi off to Leo without much thought. The ninja needed practice anyway, right? Besides, they passed Kaiya on the way to the kitchen; she'd help keep the boy entertained.

"I take it there's something you wanna ask," Don told the detective when he caught up.

Hugh grunted, following the genius down the bookcase's hidden staircase. "You got any hits?"

"A partial match. My program needs more refinement; it's limited to scanning Manhattan, but..." The mutant turned at the bottom landing then headed for the Lab. " Keeping this under wraps has been tricky."

"We both agreed not telling them was best."

"Not telling any of us would've been best."

"But _you'd_ find out anyway from the Times' Blotters you like to read. Besides, I don't know any other...technologically liberated people."

"You sure you're a cop?"

"You offend me, Sir."

"This shouldn't be easy for you to talk about."

"Has my wife said something?"

"Really, Hugh."

"She has!"

"You know I'm a hacker. A hacker with good intentions, but a hacker."

"Hacker?" Hugh glanced around the brick-hall while shrugging. "I don't know of any hackers. All I see is a technologically liberated helper."

"There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Nope."

Don sighed as he entered his Lab. "While Miriam can dye her hair and change her name, she can't fake facial structure. Not easily anyhow. I caught her on surveillance in Hell's Kitchen."

"What was she doing there?"

"See for yourself."

At one of five monitors set up on Donatello's control station, he brought up a video with a few keyboard shortcuts. The image was grainy and gray, but the genius cleaned it up with two keys to reveal Miriam chatting with a young teen before they both disappeared into a back alley beside a rundown Chinese restaurant.

"What's that all about?"

"No idea. This is the only angle and Miriam's face isn't picked up at any other place. If you wanna know more, bring this kid in for questioning."

"Uh, the whole issue has been the fact that I _can't_ track someone."

"Like I wouldn't do a follow-up for you. I already found him at Baker's Hotel. Mel knows him."

"Really?"

"His name is Zeke. He's a local tagger around Harlem."

"What's a tagger and Miriam got in common?"

"That's the next step."

"Alright." Hugh stepped back with a sigh. "Thanks for the help."

The mutant straightened to look the detective in the eyes. "I could do more, you know? It might speed things up."

"I'd rather you not be involved any more than you already have been."

"Dude, I get that the Summers are—"

"I'm just not eager to aggravate old wounds and risk pushing Miriam past the stage of no return. Okay? Seeing one another would be bad for both parties, you can't deny that."

Don glanced down.

"Trust I can do my job. Please."

"Alright, alright. At least let me poke through Manhattan Medical Center records."

" _Don_."

"I mean for you. It'll be much easier to talk Miriam down if you know what she's been through and talked about over the months. Right?"

"Look at you, turning into a regular profiler."

Don snorted then turned back to the looping footage. "It's amazing how much impact our families have had on each other. And we've only met them once."

"Any meeting can leave a lasting effect, good or bad."

"A shame it's been all about the bad for Miriam."

"I'm trying to fix that."

"I know you'll try. But...this may not be fixable."


	4. Questioning

**A/N:** I'm not known for making things easy on my characters. Probably because I get so many things piled on myself...Meh.  
PS: the stories in Hugh's last rant are all from true Blotters. They're worth reading.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 04:** **QUESTIONING**

Pier 60's Health Fitness Center was a hundred-and-fifty square feet of echoing activity inside a facility that accommodated over four dozen sports activities. The AC systems couldn't counter the energized body heat it trapped, and though Hugh only sat at the sidelines of one of its basketball courts, sweat gathered in the most unflattering places on his body.

"How does this place not kill you?" he asked.

Donna ignored him, preoccupied with the nimbleness of Noah's sports wheelchair. Her sneakers squeaked against the hardwood court as she spun, but her basketball dribbled just once before a muscular arm batted it away. Hugh watched in awe at how the Grecian man teetered on one wheel, bounced the ball towards the opposite hoop, and then regained his balance and speed in time to sink the shot.

"Ugh!" Donna panted and pulled at her white and blue jersey to help airflow over her torso. "This is embarrassing," she added in a grumble.

Noah spun his chair around one-handed, spinning the ball on the fingertip of his other hand. "L-O-S-E," he said with a giant grin. "One more letter and I win."

"Only because you're lower to the ground and don't have to dribble the ball as long."

"Don't be a sore loser."

"I haven't lost yet, Noah Boa!"

Hugh laughed—a startling sound even for himself.

"Got something to say, Hughy? I don't see you gearing up for a match."

"Please," Noah snorted while dropping the ball in his lap, "he'd probably cramp from all those tacos he had for lunch.

Hugh chose not to confirm his lunch choice and leaned forward on the metal bench, unbuttoned dress shirt parting to reveal his damp tank top. "I'm just glad to see you this way," he said.

Noah's tanned face blanched. "You're _happy_ I'm in a wheelchair?"

"No, no." The off-duty detective shook his head. "I'm happy to see you...out of bed."

Tension froze the trio, and a half minute passed before any of them garnered the courage to look at each other.

"I don't deserve that credit," Noah said. "If it weren't for Don, I'd be festering in bed sores and painkillers."

Donna gave a face-splitting smile. "If I didn't kick your butt into gear, who would?"

"A hot nurse."

"Yeah, right. You'd just oversell the role of poor, newly-paraplegic Grecian god and take every chance for her to manhandle you. That wouldn't be progress."

"Depends on your point of view."

"Mine. Thank Wendell for my extended leave, yeah? You see this?" The blonde lifted her jersey to unmodest heights, showcasing the deep indent that formed a half-moon scar from below her sports bra down her diaphragm. "If it were for my punctured lung and broken ribs, I'd have been back at the precinct instead of babysitting you."

Don laughed as her shirt fell back into place and Noah rolled his eyes, but Hugh found it difficult to take their teasing to heart. The blonde's reinstatement had been postponed twice due to infection, and when she did stabilize, she used whatever vacation days she had saved up to ran to Noah's side. She'd have to make a choice soon, though; her window to return to work diminished by the day and the deadline was fast approaching.

"If it were possible," Hugh started, "would you both return after what happened?"

"We aren't the first cops to be wounded on duty," Donna answered.

"You said we were just in that cyborg's way, right?" added Noah. "A freak accident."

The African-American wiped perspiration from his forehead, but it built back up in seconds. "People still feel bitter about these sorts of thing, even when they're accidents. Sometimes more so."

"I've gone through all the stages with my trauma therapist, Hugh. Thanks."

"I just need you to know, she never meant for this. She—"

Noah waved. "Was blinded by grief. Has her own handicaps. Not a bad guy, not like the other cyborg. Yadda, yadda."

"Noah doesn't blame her anymore, Hughy."

"What about you?"

Donna's wide mouth drew down at the corners as she bounced the basketball Hugh never noticed she stole. "I try not to. I mean, people hurt each other by accident all the time, but..."

"You don't have to trust in her," Hugh said. "Trust me. Please. I'm not saying I know what it feels like."

"You're right," Noah interjected, "you don't."

"You weren't the only one who lost something that day!" Hugh raised his left arm, holding it forward to give his friends the best view possible of his malformed stub.

The Grecian glared. "Least you kept your job."

"Barely. I have my title, but Wendell restricts me more and more."

"I'd rather have some fieldwork than a damn pity metal."

"I know. But you're lucky you survived at all."

"Lucky? Do I look _lucky_ to you?" Noah spread his arms, which brought attention to how much his lower half had withered away over the last year. "I was robbed of my livelihood, my passion!"

"I bet you could still rundown perps in that chair better than anyone with working legs."

"Joke all you want."

"I'm actually honest. Especially if we're talking about Doughnut."

"That fucker—" Noah stopped short like he just remembered he shared public space with other fitness members. He glared at a couple teenagers who had looked ready to ask to use the court, and they scattered when he growled. "Only good thing he's ever done is shoot Elrich."

"And keep some of our secrets."

"That's not good," Donna spat. "He's a ticking time bomb. I wish I could just throw him in the Pit with Mahoney."

' _Ah, the Pit. I forgot about that. Probably because Blaine pretends he never went there._ '

"I can't believe you have those sorts of connections," Noah said in an undertone. Workout activity throughout the gymnasium disguised the sensitive topic, yet the Grecian wheeled to the bench anyway, acting as if he wanted a water break rather than privacy. "You know, right?"

Hugh scratched at his short afro, sight on the blonde whose dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "I know."

"Oh, knock it off, you guys," Don added. "Everyone has secrets."

The men shared a grimace, and Noah said, "No one wants _your_ secrets."

"Too late. Besides, if we never detained Mahoney, Blaine never would've had the information to find a back-way to Hugh."

The detective hummed, even though the knowledge had changed hands to the Hamatos instead. "What happened to him, by the way?"

"Hey, the Pit are a people of their word." Why did the blonde sound so defensive? "We connected him with someone who can help him...disappear."

"That someone wouldn't happen to be called Nom de Guerre, would they?"

"How'd you know?"

"His name has been coming up more often these days."

"His?" The blonde quirked a brow. "The Nom de Guerre we know is a woman."

Hugh opened his mouth for a reply that fell short when his cell phone buzzed against the metal bench. He unlocked the touch screen to reveal a text from Blaine and not half-way through reading it, he stood.

"Something wrong, Hugh?" Noah asked.

"I gotta go to the precinct."

"What for?"

"They found someone of interest to me."

* * *

"You have an impressive rap sheet, Kid," Hugh said. He leaned over the metal table in the Nineteenth Precinct interrogation room, flipping through a file belonging to sixteen-year-old Zeke Phelps. "You got no influential parents, real or foster. No judge associates. No job. No stable school attendance. No ties at all, really. Damn. How _do_ you avoid stints in Juvie?" The detective raised his gaze to a skeleton-sized teenager in oversized clothes who looked to have last showered ten years ago.

"Guess I'm just that good," Zeke answered.

"Not good enough to avoid being snagged, apparently."

"Fuck off." The teenager slumped in his bolted-down seat, glaring through frazzled hair as blue as his eyes. "Just write me up so I can get outta this cage already."

"It's not that simple this time around, Zeke."

"Call me Edge. It's what everyone in Harlem knows me as."

"Not the most popular tagger, though, are ya? Baker's Outreach Hotel, in particular, has a stack of complaints about you and your work."

"Not everyone can handle the truth."

"The political stands against the EPF? Now, those are founded. And shows pretty good skills, I gotta say. But the slurs towards residents?" Hugh wiggled his only hand, palm-down. "Not so much."

The blue-haired punk smirked. "Then you obviously never met them."

"And that would be where you're wrong. Except for Peter Bailey. First time I met him, he was street pizza, so no credit there."

"Don't you have bigger things to concern yourself with than me?"

"Not since the Twenty-Twelve Attack, no. Losing a hand makes your superiors doubt your capabilities. Just FYI." The detective laughed, at first bitterly because of his circumstances then genuinely when Zeke leaned away to avoid the bubbled stump where Hugh's left hand had once been attached. "Don't end up like me, Son."

"I'm not your son."

"You're not anyone's son, it seems like."

Slowly, Zeke's smirk weakened, chains rattling when his cuffed hands fell into his lap. "Parents just screw kids up," he said. "Especially foster parents."

"You've been juggled around so many homes, I pity the fool who had to deal with the paperwork."

"They've gotten a break recently."

"Yeah. This latest runaway stunt of yours is almost worthy of a Guinness award."

"I figured if anyone was going to make money off me, it'd be me."

"Were any of you fosters unfit or abusive, Zeke?"

The teen sneered when Hugh leaned forward. "Doesn't matter. All I gotta do is hold out another two years. Then you guys can't touch me."

"For delinquency of a minor, true. The other stuff?" The detective pressed for more information with raised brows and a practiced look he had often used when convincing Damien and Jezebel out of the PDs. Zeke, however, retreated further under his frayed hair, narrow face seeming longer with his stern frown. "Look, I'm here to help."

"I've heard that before."

"From who? Detective Erlich? Officer Eckly?"

"Isn't it Deputy Chief Eckly now?"

Hugh made a face as he straightened up, glancing at the camera whose red light reminded him that his time undetected in the interrogation room was limited. "Consider your position, Zeke," he said in a lower voice. "Think about all those people you've dealt with. Donald Horton. Peter Bailey. Kyle Erlich. Know what they got in common? They're dead."

"So?" Zeke shrugged. "I still have plenty of connections who're still kicking."

"Like Sharon Hamlin?"

"Maybe."

Hugh drew in a deep breath, less for show and more so to gauge his approach when he began pacing around his chair. "You've been walking a dangerous line. Snitches aren't the most popular people on the street."

"Yet they come to me anyway. Because I'm great at what I do."

"Believe me, I know. It seems Doughnut and Kyle had even used your services. Information to avoid jail time? Smart, in a twisted way. They're gone now, though. Without those strings to pull, how much longer do you think you can keep up your work?"

"I'll find new strings. The police need me."

"You think?"

"Even your undercover pigs don't know what useful dirt lies in New York's underbelly."

"But you do." The long-faced teen smiled, and the ambiguous act stopped the detective in his tracks. He slid before his seat, leaned over the table on his one hand then pointed his stub at Zeke in place of a finger. "Be careful with who you think you have power over. Make deals with the wrong people..."

"That supposed to scare me?"

"You don't like the EPF, do you?"

Zeke hunched under Hugh's whisper, speaking in kind, "Point?"

"Neither do I. But if you don't cooperate, that's who you'll be answering to."

"They aren't cops."

"Want to know a secret?" The man leaned closer. "They may as well be. There's an EPF goon in every precinct. Including this one."

"He's a supervisory ornament. Can't do nothin'."

"Maybe not himself. He can pass on the reports about your murals, though. Bishop isn't generous; he learns you're responsible for all that anti-EPF crap, he'll have you slapped with Conspiracy to Commit Offence and Unrest against a Police-Ordained Institute through Public Vandalism. It would be the first such conviction—history-book-worthy—although I sense you wouldn't want that outcome. See?" Hugh leaned down to rest on his elbows, at where Zeke's chains were anchored to the cold table. "Most offenses are expunged after a minor reaches legal age. That still leaves you two years in Juvie. And the kids there? They're worse than adults. Little psychopaths and sociopaths still in search of their MO. That experimentation is taken out on those in the lowest tier of their hierarchy. Newcomers. They're also less keen on snitches, even if it benefits them. A rat is a rat. And rats? They're pests."

Zeke's complexion had become flush, despite how he fought for control over his emotions. He kept his chin up, blue eyes void, and skeleton-figure still. But the detective had dealt with too many gangsters to fall for the facade. The teen wanted to pretend he still held the advantage. He didn't. And Hugh's stare bored into him until chains softly clanked.

"What did you have in mind?" Zeke asked in a low voice.

"A deal. Not like Doughnut's or Kyle's, though. I'm not letting you off the hook. But if you can tell me something I need to know, I can lessen your consequences."

"Would your _doubting superiors_ listen?"

Hugh smiled. "Don't need a hand to talk, now do I? You may know Manhattan's underbelly. I know it's police force. And how to avoid the EPF connections that run through it."

"Should you be saying all that in front of the camera?"

"Leave those details to me."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Why do I get the feeling you aren't the one who's supposed to interview me?"

"Taco Joe's makes a great bribe."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just tell me what I need to know, and I'll keep you away from the crazies."

"And what do you need to know?"

"Everything you have on Miriam Summers."

"Summers?" Zeke fidgeted in his seat.

"That a problem? Her sister and I are looking for her."

"Summers is"—the teen licked his lips—"a strange contact."

"...You're scared of her."

"You would be too if you knew what she could do."

"And what can she do?"

Zeke glanced up. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Son." Hugh blanched. "I've seen a grown man in a diaper trying to direct traffic with his martial arts skills, which sucked. A butt-naked lady thought an elevator was her shower. There's a guy by Central Park Zoo who insists his neighbor is mind-controlling local dogs and to protect them, we should add an anti-forcefield around those animals before they go outside. Hell, someone's asked us how to _'legally kill' someone_. If you can top suspicious peanuts and delinquent squirrels, try me."


	5. Trace

**A/N: I think cases like those are one of few reasons Hugh accepted the Hamatos so easily. XD Duckie, you know more than anyone things just get worse.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 05:** **TRACE**

Hugh pressed his cell phone closer against his ear to better hear his best friend over the financial buzz and construction that flocked around Lower Manhattan, despite the late hour.

"You sure?" Blaine asked.

"Positive."

"I got no problem backing you up."

"I don't need backup to talk to a girl."

There was a sudden laugh. "Liar. Without me as a wingman, you'd still be single."

"I've had other girlfriends before you came along."

"Who dropped you like a hot potato."

"Besides, I caught Rina with my own charm."

"Charm? What charm? You took her to a damn Taco Joe's for a first date."

Hugh made a face, even if the call wasn't visual. "She told me she'd go anywhere I thought special."

"Which was woman code for 'treat me.' My Lord, it's a universal marvel she gave you the time of day after that, let alone another date."

"See? Charm."

"Uh-huh. Pretty sure she just got tired and settled."

"I don't have to take this kind of abuse." The detective bumped shoulders with an unapologetic woman too big for her dress-suit and almost dropped his cell from the force. "Go to Kai's play," he added. "You won't have many chances like this left when she needs pulled from school."

"Yeah, alright."

"Tell her sorry I couldn't make it."

"You mean Kai or Rina?"

"Both."

The phone line crackled with a sigh as Hugh jogged across Pine Street to continue along Pearl. "So, where'd that kid say Miriam's holed up?"

The detective ducked below the scaffolding construction that covered the next sidewalk and hid him from the setting sun's warmth. "You got time for this? Thought you were driving."

"Traffic. I have a few minutes to figure out where I should send my search party if you get yourself killed."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just tell me before I get pissed and smoke the last of my cigarettes."

"Fine. Remember that dummy HQ for Black Lotus?"

Blaine snarled. "How can I not?"

"Well, after the whole Little Red business and the New Jersey bust, it was condemned, right? Repossessed when the company went under?"

"She's squatting there? You sure?"

"Zeke may be a narc, but he's not dumb. During their first dealings, he'd give Miriam tips on where to find gangsters then follow to confirm where she took them."

"Tailed her?"

Hugh hummed then turned at the next block corner, heading down Beaver Street towards a distant fat skyscraper almost the size of Foot Tower. "Kid's curious, and if he could sell dirt on her later?"

"Working all angels. Crafty little bastard."

"Not crafty enough to escape his consequences any longer."

"You have a knack for catching kids like that."

"Call it a gift. And like the others, I have plans for him, too."

"So," Blaine paused, "that's where Miriam took Hun's guys? Black Lotus?"

"Guess it must've been the pick-up point for the...bodies." The detective tensed at the idea; to think a young woman like Miriam could neutralize dozens of street-hardened criminals and survive Hun's wrath was unnerving enough without the bombshell of how she did so. That was a topic for another day, though, after he had the chance to confirm it. "Miriam meets Zeke in different locations. Smart enough to know habit makes tracing easier. But he followed her again."

"And she goes there. That kind'a makes sense. All things considered, it would be the next familiar place and overlooked by police."

Hugh cleared his throat.

"Except you, Super Detective. Still, it worries me that despite the caution, she's fixated on a single place at the end of the day."

"She has a plan, Blaine, working on something. Big."

"Any clue what?"

"According to Zeke? Something to do with plants. Then some loot from Oswald."

"That place really gets screwed over. How have they stayed in the green?"

"By remaining a leading cybernetics company. Look, Blaine, I'm here. I'll let you know what I find."

"You better."

Hugh hung up with a snort and smile, though his amusement faded as his eyes lifted to the shuttered-up building that had remained lifeless for well over a year and a half. The sunset left glares across its dusty windows and with plywood sealing the front entrance, the detective knew he stood a good chance of avoiding a scene and questions if he searched the base for an alternate way in.

' _I get paid to find things. Shouldn't be so hard, right?_ '

Hugh nodded then ducked under the leftover crime tape that blocked off nearly half the narrow sidewalk running in front of it. A two-story-high fence with barbwire rails guarded the alleys on both sides, but a few kicks in the right spots gave way to where a section had been cut then disguised as whole again. His dress shirt caught the jagged edges as he slipped through then tore loudly when the man jerked free into the cluttered passage. With a curse, he prodded the hole, noting a stinging gash along his ribs and the blood that stained his fingers.

"This is just sad," he grumbled. "Welp, I'll be telling Blaine I got in a knife fight."

"Isn't that considered falsifying a report?"

Hugh spun with a jolt. In seconds, he drew his concealed pistol, steadied the weapon atop his stub wrist, and glared at a pixie-haired Dominican in a crop-top hoodie and jeans. "Dammit, Jezebel!" he cried.

Jez raised a brow, arms akimbo. "Jumpy much?"

The man heaved a big breath to calm his shot nerves while holstering his pistol. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?"

"I told you I'll handle this."

"She's _my_ sister."

"And one of the last people she wants to see right now." Icy green eyes struck the detective. Still, he maintained composure. "I'm sorry. We both know it's true."

"I don't care," Jez said through clenched teeth. "We're not going anywhere."

"We're?" A hand landed on Hugh's shoulder. The suddenness made his heart race, though when he met Damien's dark stare, the surprise evolved into frustration. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Like I'd let Jez come alone."

"Neither of you should be here! Jezebel, you're a civilian, and Damien, this could jeopardize your position at—" Hugh froze with knit brows. "Hold on. How'd you even know where I was? You don't know Zeke, and even if Blaine called, it wouldn't have been enough time for—"

"Jez made Donatello track your phone," Damien interjected.

"He _what_?"

"Not that hard, considering his skills," Jez added. She folded her arms, which lifted her hoodie's hem just below her bust. "I don't know him as well as you, but at least he had the decency to tell me about Miriam's records."

"He's gone through those already?"

"Yeah, and he didn't trust you'd share what they said."

"Really?"

"I'll tell you all about it."

"And here's the 'if.'"

"If you let us come with you."

"I could always call Don myself."

"He promised not to say anything."

Hugh blanched when the Dominican smirked. ' _Damn turtle. I know he feels obliged to give information, but I'm the cop here._ '

"So?" she added. "We got a deal?"

Groaning, the detective caught Jez's and Damien's expectant faces with hardened eyes and spoke in a tone that left no room for debate, "We do this, you listen. You tell no one. And whatever happens, I take point. Got it?" The kids were smarter than to argue against a leader with three decades of experience; they nodded then fell in line as Hugh directed to various debris in the alley. "Get digging."

"Uh," Damien tapped his sneaker against the concrete, "I hope you don't mean literally. I left my jackhammer at home."

"You said you want to help, help."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Jez asked. She listened, however, and began moving materials.

"Another way inside,"Hugh answered.

Damien scoffed. "This joint doesn't have a basement door?"

"No obvious one. So, help. Look for anything abnormal."

"A secret entrance?"

"It isn't something that just happens in movies. Trust me." The younger African-American made a noise of displeasure, but when the detective turned, he was already complying. Good. "Alright, Jez. Spill it. What'd Don dig up?

"Mir was a handful, according to Wells," Jez started. "Irate, hysterical, prone to violent fits. It earned her a lot of solitary time."

"I'm sorry," Hugh said instinctively.

"It's my fault. Should've kept a better eye on her, but I was so busy with school that..." Jezebel sighed, pushing over a broken couch that had somehow made its way to a trash pile. "She was never very stable," the Dominican continued. "When we were little, if Davie or I took something without permission or had something she wanted, she wouldn't let us know right away how mad she was. She waited until we forgot then stole our stuff. We'd never find it again, whether she destroyed the things or sold them or hid them. Mami would get upset, though she never found an effective punishment. Mir took everything in stride and just..."

Hugh overturned some rotted plywood dotted with browned blood, shifting buckets aside to look for a hidden door or manhole cover. "The few times I've met Miriam made her seem enigmatic. Like she has a secret below her smile. I've seen it before in"—the man hesitated with worry—"psychopaths."

"That was part of Wells' early diagnosis," Jez admitted. Whether her voice strained from emotion or exertion, Hugh didn't know. "He quickly noticed Mir would manipulate the nurses to unbind her in solitary. She'd always slip into a rant about the Hamatos, though, and end up right where she started. So he decided to play into her delusion. He thought it'd be the best way to get to the core of her issues."

"Her issues focus on revenge."

"That's what _we_ know," Damien said, hands roaming the skyscraper's concrete base. "Mir is scary perceptive, though. She not only figured out what Wells was trying to do, but she also victimized herself."

"Classic."

"Yeah, she made Jez the central cause of her pain. And Wells believed her."

"She made him believe I was there," Jez spat. "That I helped kill Mami and Davie. That I was inspired when the Forty-Fours gunned Papa down on duty. That in order to 'escape consequences' I fabricated the Hamatos and forced my 'lie' on her."

"You should read his notes." Damien sent a snide look over his shoulder to the older African-American. "He lists Mir at first as a possible psychopath then amended it to an impressionable, vulnerable youth prone to believe in the last family she has left at the expense of her sanity."

Hugh found another piece of plywood to search under. "In other words, his records claim Jez broke her."

"Bullshit!" Jezebel tossed something heavy; Hugh had no idea what because by the time he faced her, she busied herself by stomping a mutilated wood frame into pieces. When it cracked, Damien crossed the alley to wrap his girlfriend in a tight, silent hug. She trembled, distant eyes glaring into nothingness. "Why would she _do_ that? Turn it all on me? I didn't mean for...I didn't _know_! I..."

"She worked the system, Jez," Hugh told her. "It isn't the first or last time it'll happen, either."

"She—she managed to make it into general population," the Dominican added. "Lower security. More freedoms. She made a friend that surprised Donatello."

"Who?"

"Ryan Bridge."

Bridge? Now, why was that surname familiar? Wait, could it be?

Hugh let the plywood crash onto the ground. "You mean Angel Bridge's brother?"

"Yeah. He and Mir became close."

"Ryan was admitted for schizophrenia if I recall. There was...an incident?"

"Involving what?"

Hugh reflected on the answer, but he had heard and read so many reports in his career that most blurred together.

"The turtles, Hugh!" Jezebel huffed then separated from her boyfriend. "Ryan had been cleared to leave long ago. Because of the turtles, though, he didn't want to be discharged. He chose to stay where he felt safer. Until he met Miriam."

"He's out too?"

"And under far less scrutiny."

"Did you notify his sister?"

"What for? She's out of state, and if he's with Mir, I don't want her muddying the situation."

"And what do you think you're doing, hum?"

"Death Angel can get her brother after I get my sister. That's just how it's gunna be."

"I think she deserves a little better." Hugh watched the Dominican grow more aggressive in her haste. Her muscles quivered, she sniffled, and the detective ached for her. "Hey, we'll find her, Jezebel. No one disappears without a trace."

"The Phantoms do."

"Well, your sister isn't a Phantom, is she?"

"No," Jez lowered her tone, "I fear she's becoming something much darker…"

"You can help her, Babe," Damien butted in. "I know it. If we can ever find a way into this damn place!" The cadet kicked a plastic bucket with a growl. It bounced off the plywood pile Hugh had searched and ricocheted back towards the building, rumbling downward behind where Jez tossed the couch. "Hear that?" he asked.

Hugh scooted the couch away to peer into a rut along the base's rim. "It's a window?" he asked.

"Strange place for it," Jez noted.

"Who has windows on the floor?" asked Damien.

Hugh peered further over the slender opening for a better view, though he could hardly make anything out, save a blue haze and large, insulated cables. "A better question would be, who opened it?"

The three met each other's gazes then yelped when the ground folded inward to send them free-falling into the depths.


	6. Nightshade

**A/N: Two more chapters to go after this. Good luck guessing what's ahead...**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 06:** **NIGHTSHADE**

The coppery taste on Hugh's tongue was welcomed, if only because the blood provided some moisture in his otherwise parched mouth. Swallowing it proved difficult, though—almost as difficult as remembering where he was and what smelled like dirt.

"Ah, you're waking up."

Call Hugh crazy, but Miriam's voice made her sound like a giant. It could've been for a number of reasons: acoustics, the detective's budding migraine, or even a hallucination. Still, the only way he could confirm involved opening his sensitive eyes to the floodlights that made him sweat.

"I'd be careful how much I moved if I were you, Detective Reese. You still have some Atropine in your system."

"Atro-what?" Hugh rasped. He cringed at the pain talking caused and dreaded swallowing again. "What...did you...do?"

"You fell through _my_ roof first. The Nightshade and chains were just precautions."

Did she mean she poisoned them? Chained them? To what? Wait, who was 'them' exactly? Groaning, Hugh pushed up from the stone floor with weakened muscles, and they quivered as his erratic heart quickened its pace so suddenly, it left the man nauseous.

"Bet you've never felt effects like that in your career, huh, Detective?"

The man wanted to shake his head but knew if he did, it would turn his tilted world upside-down.

"Shit," another man said with a wheeze. Damien? "What're we? In an episode of Scooby-Doo?"

A fourth person hissed; female. "Miriam? What're you…doing?"

"What do you think, Jez? I'm protecting myself."

"By drugging us?"

"Well, unlike _some_ , I'm not good at doing nothing."

' _We found Miriam? How? What did...? Right, Zeke. I got a lead. Jez and Damien crashed it. We fell, so...are we in Black Lotus' basement?_ '

With borderline pain, Hugh's sight adjusted to the intense lights, and he focused it where he heard the strongest voice. Miriam stood at a long planter on high legs, carefully tending it with a watering tin around UV strips hanging overhead. What struck the detective as stranger than her casualness was how she held herself, even her clothes. The Miriam he remembered had been a Dominican with cool undertones softened by her girly style and loving family. This Miriam? She dressed dowdily and kept her dyed hair in a long braid, priorities switched to some inner battle Hugh couldn't see.

"What is this place?" Damien asked.

Hugh twisted to see him, but soon realized he had been anchored by the neck to one of many triangular, cement pillars in the low-ceiling room. ' _Guess Damien and Jezebel are on the other sides._ '

"Oh, this old place?" Miriam answered dryly. "It's an overseen storage room someone missed in the police sweep. Or rather, it was never reported. Guess the guy who found it wanted to capitalize on its goods. Too bad for him, he must've died, maybe during the Twenty-Twelve. Doesn't matter; it left me some interesting things to play with."

"I've heard about some of those _things_ ," Hugh said.

"How?"

"Sources."

The younger Dominican lowered her watering tin to stroke the petals of a plant that resembled Queen Anne's Lace. Although she kept quiet, the detective resolved to make Wendell assign security details to Zeke Phelps after his jail visit.

"So," Hugh added, "what's it take to get some tacos in this joint?"

"Tacos?"

"It's the least you can offer for this set-up. I mean the trap door was one thing, but"—the detective spat out a glob of blood from his cottony mouth—"drugging and chaining us to a pillar like dogs? Come on, Miriam, you're our host."

"And you're unwelcomed guests."

"Yes; wounded, dizzy, hungry guests. Also, curious. Like, where do you go to the bathroom? You got a...bucket?"

"I'm more resourceful than you think."

"That wasn't a 'no.'"

"Mir," Jezebel swallowed audibly, just out of range from Hugh's right side, "why are you here? Why didn't you tell me you were released? Wh—why'd you remove your bracelet? You know you'll go _back_ because of that!"

Miriam snorted. "You make it sound like I'm scared. I'm not. Not anymore."

"So you plan to hide with plants for the rest of your life?"

"You always did think small, Hermana. All about yourself." With nimble fingers, the younger Dominican rummaged through the flowers that crowded the metal planter. "Cicuta Maculata," she added in a softer tone. "Water Hemlock. It's not as famous as the Poison Hemlock that killed Socrates, but I'm not one for popularity."

"That why you would rig the cheerleaders' lockers in school?"

"They got what they deserved. Nothing more."

"Think their faces would disagree."

"The swelling was temporary and excluded from my permanent record."

"Only because you sweet-talked the Principal."

Miriam drew in a loud breath. "Did you know Hemlock is part of the carrot and parsnip family?"

Jez snarled then coughed. "Enough about the stupid plants!"

"But it's relevant, in a way. Hemlock is disguised amongst nonpoisonous members. It isn't until someone makes a mistake that its cicutoxin wreaks havoc on their central nervous system. Nausea, cramping, convulsions—it can even cause amnesia and life-long tremors."

"You sure that ain't what ya—?" Hugh fought for the right term, though being unconscious meant he had no idea how her poison had been administered, only that it made him feel like he had the flu.

"I know the difference between Nightshade and the most toxic plant in North America, Detective."

"If it's so great," Damien wheezed, "why didn't you use _that_ on us?"

"Because I wanted to incapacitate you, not kill you. Not all of you, anyhow."

Hugh twisted to the left as far as his chained neck would allow. "Damien? Talk to me, man. How are you feeling?"

"Don't worry about me right now. Focus on Poison Ivy."

"They call me Nightshade, actually," Miriam said.

"Who does?" asked Jez.

"Purple Dragons. Forty-Fours. I'm somewhat of a boogyman now." Miriam's amusement ran deep—from her smile to the glint in her stare when she moved to another planter filled with similar flowers. "White Snakeroot, another commonly mistaken plant. It killed Abraham Lincoln's mother, you know?"

"Get to the point!" Jez bellowed. Her chain rattled, and her voice was scratchy, but years as a PD must've lent her strength because she half-stood despite the vertigo Hugh knew she must've fought.

"Poison is often unsuspecting, isn't it?" Miriam continued. She began watering the Snakeroots then gestured with her free hand towards rows of other planters set-ups with such a variety of specimens that the concrete storeroom resembled an underground nursery segregated by pillars, a laboratory station, and hung canvas-tarps that obscured the back-most wall. "Castor Beans. Eight seeds contain enough Ricin to cause seizures, excessive vomiting, diarrhea, and if untreated, death. Rosary Peas are often used in tropical places as jewelry. And yet three micrograms of its Abrin is lethal. Less than a single seed and your organs can fail in four days."

Hugh narrowed his foggy eyes when the younger Dominican chuckled, struggling for balance as Miriam turned to Jezebel with the blankest expression he had ever seen.

"Poisonous things hide in plain sight," she added. "Even amongst families."

"What...What do you mean?" Jez asked. She was on the ground again and beat her fist against it. "No one in the family ever wanted to hurt you!"

"Oh, _they_ weren't the poison."

The older Dominican gasped—a wavering sound that made Damien growl. "Jez has done nothing except protect and love you, little shit!"

"She joined a gang," countered Miriam.

"The rival gang of the one who killed your father!"

"But a gang all the same. And for what? To run away. You never did find the people responsible, Jez. You just became one of them. And lied about it."

"Mir—"

"You were our poison. You pushed Mami away, left Davie crying. You made me pretend everything would be okay. Then?" Their captor's voice sharpened. "You left them to die."

"I didn't know what would happen. I..."

"Ours isn't the only family ruined by monsters. Nor the last."

"Exactly," Hugh interjected. "That's why if you want to hunt bad guys, you should join the Academy." A staggered cough sounded from the Cadet. "Well, you may not pass the psych evaluation."

"I don't need any more evaluations. Or the Academy. I'll find other ways to deal with things."

"Aren't you a little limited on options?" Damian spat breathlessly. "You're name is a giant, red flag. Charges are piling up against you, now including False Imprisonment. You have no leverage, no funds."

"Wrong. You think I dealt with wire transactions when I sold to Doctor Stephens? It was only a matter of sneaking back to my vault."

Damien's sneakers shuffled against the concrete. "If you have cash, why are you still in Manhattan? What the hell are you spending it on?"

"Priorities," Miriam answered. "If I want this city cleansed, I need friends in the right places."

"Cleanse?" Damien gasped, although it sounded strangled. "How'd you get off the Funny Farm again?"

In a split second, Miriam's demeanor cracked, and she hurled the empty watering tin towards the hostages' pillar. "I'm _not_ crazy!"

"Mir, Hermana, please." Jez trembled. "We can still make this better. Just let us go. I promise, no other reports will be filed. No Court dates, no felonies, just more time at the Center, real time, and away from—"

The younger Dominican soured. "I'm over being the victim."

"Por favor!"

"No. This...this is who I'm meant to be. I feel it. And it's freeing."

"You aren't well." The older Dominican sounded close to tears.

"I've never felt so sure of my place," Miriam said, "so strong. I've built up immunity to these poisons, subdued dozens of gangsters with little more than wit and pin-pricks. For once in my life, I have control."

"Control and madness share a thin barrier," Hugh added.

"What one calls madness, another calls necessity."

"It's clear which you are, so who's the other?"

Miriam flashed her trademark ambiguous smile. "I won't be like Jezebel. I won't sit back. They're monsters festering in this city, and I'm going to do something about it."

"These're people we're talking about!" Jez screamed.

"Gangsters. Murderers. Rapists. Thieves. Trash."

"Is that what you've thought of me all this time?"

"They're a blight. Just like those turtles."

"One of those turtles took a _knife_ for us, Mir!"

"And our mother and brother took _bullets_ for them!" Miriam heaved for air maybe longer than she realized. After a deep inhale, she held her breath while she regained her posture. Soon her shakes ceased, her apathy returned, and she reclaimed the tossed watering tin.

"Alright, I'll bite," Damien told her in a strained voice. The Dominican glanced up while bent over, green braid swaying. "If you have all these plans, a master scheme, where does that leave us? You gunna kill us? Sell us? Barter us? Like you did those other people?"

Miriam rightened, grip on the watering tin as loose as her expression, and walked back towards her plants. ' _She knows this place has been compromised. She also must know others will be looking for us. She'll have to make us disappear. But how?_ ' Hugh reached into his dress slacks with an unsteady hand in hopes of signaling his Phantom alarm. Just his luck, though, it had been confiscated. ' _She isn't stupid, but it was worth a shot._ '

"Jez," Hugh spoke in an undertone, "we may have to accept she won't listen."

"Why?" Jezebel whispered. "Aren't you, like, trained for this shit?"

"Talking down perps? Yeah. But it doesn't always work. Mission-oriented people are usually hung up on small details, logic, and patience. But considering what her mission _is_ , we have no bargaining chips to sway her or reason that would convince her to return to the Center."

"She won't abandon her crusade," Damien added.

"There's gotta be some way to help," Jez hissed.

"You're her sister," continued Hugh, "and she has you chained to a pillar."

"Speaking of, anyone else find that strange?" The younger African-American paused. "How she restrained us, I mean. Collars? They're bolted to the stone, for cripes sake. She didn't just do that on the fly."

"Keep talking," Hugh said.

So Damien did, "I think this set-up was more of a convenience. Other pillars have chains too. Like it was a holding area for something."

"Holding _what_?"

Grinding metal sounded. An elevator? Hugh couldn't be sure, but he heard the whine come to an abrupt halt and not long after the back canvas-tarps parted to reveal a broad-figured man with deep purple hair. He stalked towards Miriam, dark eyes flickering over the captives.

"Did you move everything, Ryan?" the younger Dominican asked.

"Ryan?" Hugh asked. "Ryan Bridge? Angel's brother?"

The purple-haired man scoffed. "Yes," he told Miriam.

"You kept it upright?" she asked. "No jerking movements?"

"I worked in construction for years, Night; I know how to move a silly crate."

"It's a special crate."

"Tell that to the guy who never picked it up."

"I doubt Doctor Tilley was the one who stowed it away."

 _'Tilley? Now, why is that name familiar? Why? Why...?_ ' Hugh's brows shot up. ' _The badge we used to get to Leo. Well, tried. If he had a shipment here, it must be related to the work at Black Lotus. But...what_ was _he working on?_ '

"We don't have much time left," said Ryan, gaze set on Hugh. "You ready to move the last things?"

Jezebel spat his way. "We aren't things, mama guevo!"

"Ryan." The detective caught the man's attention again. "How would your sister feel if she saw you right now?"

"Angel doesn't matter," Ryan retorted. "She sided with those freaks who attacked me."

"I thought only Raph jumped you. Er—"

"I don't care how many there were. She chose them over me, so I made a choice, too."

"To cut her out of your life? She thought the higher-ups at the Center were barring her from visiting, but it was _you_?"

"Night understands me. She has a plan I believe in. It's all I need."

"So there were two crazies who managed to escape," grumbled Damien.

Ryan stepped aside so Miriam could approach. She carried three EpiPen-like devices premeasured with a blue-green formula. Hugh jerked aside when she kneeled before him, choking on the tension the collar placed on his swollen throat.

"This is a heavier rendition of the earlier drug," she said in all casualty. "But you won't overdose. If you just cooperate, no one has to—"

Shattering glass rained down from behind the canvas-tarps. There was a man's cry and a thump like the impact of a weighted sack against the concrete. By the time Ryan and Miriam twisted around, a short figure darted through the partitions so quickly, one fluttered to the ground, and Hugh's stomach turned when Kaiya smiled at him.


	7. Fix

**A/N: Ugh, I've felt awful these past few days. I only got a chapter left after this. D, Leo's blood pressure is going to spike with his boys and Kai to train. Hahaha.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 07:** **FIX**

Kaiya had either poor or great timing; Hugh hadn't decided. On the one hand, he wanted to the child her for being present. On the other hand (figuratively), her super-strength was just what the trio needed to escape.

"How did—" Miriam stopped herself, standing to her full height. "I know you. You were on 6 News, the bus kid."

Kaiya's grin turned lopsided as if fighting over her feelings about her new position.

"We know some interesting things about _you_ ," Ryan added.

The man and Mir stepped closer, and their suddenness startled the blonde. She sprung forward in a single motion that put her between the captors in a second's time. They hardly had a chance to register she moved before the girl panicked over her next step, tossing her arms aside. Her palms met their sides with an audible slap, and the force spun them into pillars on opposite sides.

"Sweet, Mary, Joseph, and the donkey," Jezebel said, "where'd the hell she learn that?"

"Oh, right. You haven't met, huh?" Hugh watched Kai advance from the corner of his eye. "Kaiya, this is Jezebel. Jezebel, Kaiya."

"She's a superhuman," Damien added.

Jez snorted. "No shit. How?"

"Later," Hugh said.

"Uncle Hugh, are you okay?" Kai's death-hug threatened to snap the detective's already tender ribs, and he patted her back for attention.

"Air," he wheezed. The child let go with an apology, giving Hugh enough time to regain his oxygen and see Blaine approach.

"Dude," the older blonde said, "I thought you didn't _need_ backup to talk to a girl."

Hugh made a face. "Yeah, yeah. You were right. I was wrong. Let's move on."

"Wh—what even happened? What is this? Who the hell goes to question a subject and winds up collared to a pillar?"

"That's not the issue here."

"Really? Seems to be your issue."

"Can we please just get out of here?" Hugh loathed the boastful look his best friend sported and pointed at the metal ring around his neck. "If you would, Kai?"

Kaiya nodded then tore the collar in half without any effort. It seemed to surprise not only her father but herself, too.

"Guess those Karate lessons are paying off," Hugh added, rubbing his chaffed skin.

"Ninjutsu," Kai said.

"Huh?"

"It's not Karate, it's Ninjutsu. Get it right."

"Gee, sorry." The detective watched Kai round the pillar to unshackle the other captives and then quickly turned to Blaine. "What're you guys doing here?"

The older blonde crossed his arms. "Saving your ass, evidently. When you didn't answer my calls after Kai's play, I got worried."

"And Kai?"

"I told her to stay home."

"That went well."

"She hid in the backseat. By the time I got here, it was too late."

"I'm a kind'a grateful." Hugh continued rubbing his tender flesh. "You bring cuffs? We should—"

"Damien!" Jezebel's alarm lured Hugh around the pillar to where the Cadet rasped. He was in worse condition than the detective expected; he sweated profusely, wheezed, and bubbled blotches had spread across most his skin.

Hugh gapped, "The hell?"

"He's having an allergic reaction," Blaine said. "To what?"

"Nightshade," Miriam answered. She strolled away from the chipped pillar Kai had propelled her into—upright, cock-sure, and speckled with blood that had no source.

"Uh," Hugh pointed at Mir then the muscle man who followed suit, "am I the only one who notices they aren't hurt?"

"Well," said Blaine lowly, "this is the same person who incapacitated countless seasoned criminals."

"Fair enough. Jez!" Hugh spun to the Dominican who held her trembling boyfriend. "Take Kai and get Damien to a hospital."

"I'm not leaving my sister," Jezebel countered. She glared, but when Damien gapped for deeper breaths, she looked near tears. Her gaze darted between the two great loves in her life, and the way she chewed her lips made her conflict obvious. "You can help him, Mir."

The younger Dominican pulled her braid over her shoulder. "I could."

"But she won't," Blaine supplied.

"He's just another gangster," Miriam continued.

Jez tossed a collar fragment for attention. "He's straight now, a Cadet."

"That won't make up for what he's done."

"Don't you believe in redemption? In being sorry? Mir"—Jez's voice broke—"don't you believe in me?"

"I believe that to stop an infection from spreading, you have to cut out the poisonous bits. _Whatever_ they may be."

"There's no convincing her," Hugh whispered to the wide-eyed Jezebel. "Please, just take Damien and Kai and go."

"She's my sister."

"I think the relationship is one-sided at this point."

"I...I can't."

Hugh growled as he faced Blaine. "You take them!"

"And what would you do, One-hand Wonder? I doubt they let you keep your gun."

"So give me yours."

"No one leaves," Miriam interjected.

She directed towards Ryan with a simple glance and her partner sought to bum-rush Blaine. Before his body made contact, the officer reacted. He fired two non-lethal shots without flinching, although the relief in stopping the muscle man was short-lived. Ryan pulled out a waxy paper square from behind him, which he placed on his oozing wounds. Hugh watched in shock as they dissolved over his flesh like water-dunked cotton candy then push out the expended shots and wondered if they healed bone as well.

"Handy little things, no?" Miriam asked. "I call them Erasers. Simple yet accurate."

"How?" Blaine breathed.

The younger Dominican giggled. "It's all thanks to Doctor Tilley's leftovers. It's not the only thing I've been working on, either."

"And these would be the things Zeke mentioned," Hugh added.

Blaine kept his stance defensive, attention on both his best friend and opponents. "Zeke?"

"Phelps. Edge. The Harlem tagger?"

"He knew about this?"

"Saw an earlier demonstration. Knife wound. Nothing like—like this."

"Do you get it now, amemao?" asked Miriam. "You can empty what's left of your bullets into us; we have enough Erasers to survive a battalion. Meanwhile, that PD scum will asphyxiate."

Blaine's gun barrel nudged her way slightly. "And yet I get the feeling even if we surrendered you'd still let him die."

"We have to do something," Hugh snapped. Curt gasps made him face Damien. The poor Cadet was swollen, glistening in the floodlights and close to losing consciousness.

"I run, you're as good as dead," Blaine said.

"We stay, and we're _all_ dead."

"Why don't you let me be the martyr for once?"

"Because—"

A yellow streak cut the best friends short. It collided with Ryan, sent him flying backward, and splayed dust in its wake as it came to a stop. Kaiya panted as she caught herself on a pillar, little body shaking inside her sleeveless hoodie. She gave her father a smile, despite his scowl, and when she turned, she failed to notice the body barrelling towards her.

"Kai!"

Blaine called her to attention too late; the eight-year-old faceplanted into the concrete under Ryan's weight with a yelp. The older blonde aimed his gun at the attacker for a heartbeat before deciding against the chance of a stray bullet, even if his daughter would heal in seconds. He used the grip's butt instead to knock Ryan's head sideways, and Hugh followed up with a heel-kick. The purple-haired man reeled but then countered by slamming his whole arm into the cops' guts with a force that doubled them over.

Hugh heard a whimper, though it may've been his own. He stumbled back as he fought to steady his spinning world and squinted when a yellow and blue blob rocketed upward. Kaiya clipped Ryan (with a body part Hugh couldn't see clearly), and the man cursed, staggering to the side.

"You—you can't hu—hurt them!" Kaiya yelled. She wanted to seem brave; God, Hugh knew she did. But he ached to consider the horrors that raced through her head and made her fists shake.

"Don't bother, little girl," Ryan said.

"I've taken down bigger guys be—be—before!"

Ryan's unimpressed face spoke volumes as he assaulted Kaiya with a barrage of violent limbs. The girl avoided them, using fluid motions Hugh had only seen from the Hamatos. Next chance she got, she countered, again and again, so as not to lose momentum or courage.

"We may not need the cuffs at this rate," Hugh told Blaine. The father kept focused on his daughter, and his gun clanked softly against his side. Both proud and pained, Hugh understood the awe yet shook Blaine to keep him grounded. "Come on. There's still the issue of Miriam and Damien."

The two faced Miriam, who somehow didn't look as concerned as she should be. She kept her enigmatic smile, at ease despite the beating Ryan took and the gasps from Damien.

Blaine cursed. "There's always a difference between hearing someone's crazy and seeing it."

"To be honest?" Hugh asked. "I blame the alien plants."

"Alien plants?"

Another gasp sounded, though from a much smaller person. Hugh whirled in time to catch Kaiya frozen with her bloodied hands held as far from her face as possible. Ryan held no sympathy for her hesitation, maybe in part to being pissed that someone a quarter his age left cuts all over his body. He hurled her towards Miriam before falling unconscious, and the Dominican kneeled at where the child rolled to a stop.

"This is almost too perfect an opportunity," she said. "I haven't been this close to anyone touched by Recro-12 before."

' _How does she know about Recro-12?_ '

"Miriam, what are you thinking?" Jezebel screamed. "She's a little girl!"

Miriam glanced up then stabbed a new EpiPen into Kaiya's thigh, just below her shorts. "She's a monster. Least she can do is test Obdurem."

Kaiya wailed as the amber fluid emptied, and the high-pitch ring rattled Hugh's senses. He blinked rapidly to keep his vision straight while Blaine recovered his daughter, although Miriam didn't bother to fight him off, which worried the detective even more. Red soaked through the child's clothes, flowering out from her belly. She struggled against her father when he pulled up the hoodie, and the fact that she was too weak to stop him made Hugh want to vomit when he saw her skin dissolve into raw stomach muscles. Blain ripped her shirt off to cover the wound. Still, it persisted, and the girl cried.

"Th—this is the wound from the explosion she was in," Hugh said.

"And these"—Blaine uncurled her fists—"are from when she broke some plates at home."

Hugh struggled for air, "It can undo what Recro-12 healed?"

"So, it works?" The detective shot Miriam a glare as she continued, "Obdurem. My stand against monsters and ticket to a new job."

"We have to get these two to Melody ASAP," Hugh told Blaine.

"Why Melody?"

"She knows more about this shit than any other doctor out there. I bet she can help Damien, too. Best just make it one stop. We can arrest _them_ later."

"We're leaving?" Jez interjected. "But Mir—"

Blaine collected his child then stood, blood dripping down his arms. "You can get your boyfriend killed trying to talk sense into her. _I'm_ saving my baby."

"You aren't going anywhere," Miriam said. She headed for the blondes when they retreated toward the canvas-tarps, but Hugh caught her attention with a snap of his fingers.

"Ryan's part of your plans, isn't he?" he said. "I may have one hand, but I can drag your guy right on out of here. Then who'd be your bodyguard?"

"You offering an exchange?"

Hugh placed his foot on the unconscious man for good measure. "Let us go, you can keep him. Won't fix things, but at least no one dies."

Miriam debated for a moment before nodding. ' _Ryan is obviously more than just muscle she can manipulate. Otherwise, she'd just sacrifice him._ '

"Miriam, please!" Tears flowed down Jezebel's red face, and she shook as she held Damien close. "This isn't you!"

"It's Nightshade," Miriam spoke with a derisive calm Hugh knew well; the younger Dominican had changed for the worse, and the detective pulled Damien over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. "Time to go, Jez."

"I can't leave her like this."

"You have no choice."

"She's my _sister_."

"And Damien will _die_ if we argue any longer!"

"So go!"

Hugh glared at Jezebel. She wanted to make things hard? He could make things hard. Although his legs wobbled under Damien's weight and lingering poison effects, he garnered all his will into wrapping an arm around the young woman and pulling her towards what he hoped was an exit.

' _Maybe I should cut back on the tacos_ ,' he thought, panting.

"Let go!" Jez yelled. But with her arms trapped at her sides, her legs could do little to stop him. "I can help! Mir, we can fix this!"

"I don't want to be fixed," Miriam countered. It was the last thing Hugh heard before he gathered his burden in a waiting elevator.


	8. Nineteenth

**Heres the last bit. Sorry. Still feeling awful. :( Moiety is next. Just not sure when I'll feel up to proofing it for posting. Hope you enjoyed this mini adventure meanwhile.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 08:** **NINETEENTH**

Hugh lurched up from his cot then immediately regretted it. He brought his hand to his burning chest, although he knew the pressure would do nothing for his fractured rib and vertigo.

"So—sorry, Hugh-san, I didn't mean to startle you."

Letting out a staggered sigh, Hugh faced Nia and the paper bag she offered. "No worries. I'll live. That mine?"

"Oh, yeah, Nacho Taco Supreme, just like you asked."

"It's Supreme Nacho Dream, actually. But I'll forgive you."

The artist handed over the treat, and for a moment, the only noise in Saisei's lab was the rustling of a paper.

"How long have I been out?" the detective asked.

"Not long." Nia sat on a stool, mismatched eyes darting from Hugh to Damien and Jezebel then back again.

"They haven't left either, eh?"

"No. Damien-san is still too weak and Jezebel-san..."

"She finally let out all the tears she'd been holding back. It's only natural she tired herself out. Not that the stress did her any favors." Hugh paused to savor the first bite of his meal before continuing. "You're really dedicated to this whole Japanese honorific thing, huh?"

The artist flashed a sheepish look.

"We all have our quirks, I guess," added the man while chewing. "Is Kai—"

"She's still in there with Daddy, Donny-niichan, Mel-neechan, and April-neechan."

"Was she"—Hugh almost couldn't form the word—"stable?"

"Last we heard."

"Where's Blaine?" Mouth full, Hugh surveyed the dim area that the others must've vacated in respect to the group's rest, although the hysterical blonde no longer paced around.

"Smoking," Nia answered. "Outside. I don't want Nicotine in the house."

"The place is huge, Ni. Besides, this basement may as well be the sewers."

"When Mel-neechan gets out, she can give you details about how second-hand smoke affects infants and pregnancy."

"Alright, I get the point, Mama Bear."

"I'm not exposing my babies to that."

"I get it. Gee, you sound like Rina. Then again," Hugh flashed a smile that may've been literally cheesy, "you 'new mother' types tend to worry the most."

"I can't help it. Hybrid pregnancies carry enough risk as is. I'd ask what else could go wrong, but.." Nia rested her hands against her belly, brows creased and focus set on the operating room.

"They'll be fine," Hugh said. "All the babies. Including Kai. She has the best minds at her fingertips. That's saying something coming from me, ya know? Considering a certain red-haired—" The detective caught himself before could insult Gavin further; he had forgotten Nia was his daughter and actually liked him. "Anyways, did Raph finally calm down with the idea that he knocked you up again?"

Nia sighed as the African-American opened his next taco to maul. "A bit. It's still a shock. For both of us. Sel and Nyx are hardly six months old. Now we're gunna add a third within the next two months or so?"

"Yeah, I lose enough sleep with just one."

"Still...I told Splinter-san once that I'd like to have four kids like him."

"If that's your goal then your trajectory is spot on, Crazy Lady. But I think another back-to-back pregnancy would give Raph a heart attack. Can't be good for you, either." The detective crammed the last of his second taco in his mouth before opening the last and listening to Nia while she collected trash into the bag it came in.

"It's not good, to be honest," she said. "My body hadn't fully recovered from my last pregnancy, but I wouldn't change anything. Mama helps a lot, which I'm thankful for. Without her, I'd be a hot mess."

"You mean you aren't?" Hugh faked surprise but not for long; his own joke made him laugh. "Do you feel as sick this time around?"

"Worse," Nia grumbled. "We think it's because the baby may be another blood type."

"Thought you were an O."

"Negative."

"Wait, 'negative' as in 'wrong'? Or?"

"I'm an O Negative. I can give blood to everyone, but am only compatible with other O Negatives."

"Does that mean the twins have your blood type?"

"Thankfully. I don't think I would've made it if they weren't." Groaning, Nia rubbed her belly and cringed.

"You okay?" Hugh asked.

"This guy likes to kick more than his siblings."

"His?"

A sharp click cut off Nia's reply. Hugh turned to the lab entrance as Blaine returned with three Hamato brothers in tow, and the best friends made eye contact just before another click sounded. Melody, Gavin, April, and Donatello exited the operating room, two of whom were calm while the remaining ones shared a morose stare.

"Don't fuck with me," Blaine told Don and April. "Those looks better not mean—"

"The prognosis is good," Melody interjected. "I had Nia's blood in reserve. It did well in flushing the poison from Kaiya's system."

"Is that all it takes to beat this thing?" Hugh smiled, though the cyborg's listless blink made him fear the truth

"Kaiya was lucky," Melody said. "Her youth makes the IgR compounds profoundly potent, though the poison adheres to them, from what I can tell. Adding clean blood helped for two reasons only."

"Which are?"

"Kaiya's blood produced enough IgRs to overwhelm the infectious proteins, and the poison itself is in its early stages."

"There're issues with its engineering," added Gavin stoically. "It hit the lass hard initially then began to break down due to instability."

"So," Nia fidgeted on the stool as her husband came to stand behind her, "this Obderum can really undo all the healing by Recro-12? I mean, IgRs?"

"This thing is far from ready to be weaponized," April added. She gave Raphael a stern stare in counter to his growl then softened it to a compassionate smile when she met Nia. "It'll take time to perfect it, and with what data we collected, we can strategize a counter drug. Sort'a."

"A counter drug for the counter drug." Hugh snorted. "This is what my life has come to."

"How are her wounds?" Blaine asked.

"Healed," Melody answered. "Again."

"I want to see her."

"Doubt she will be awake, but fine." The cyborg sidestepped to allow the man to pass into the operating room. Her nose scrunched as the door shut behind her and she turned to Don with an unsaid question on her lips.

"Yes," the Genius answered, "he does smell like a chimney."

Mel made a face of disproval yet glanced aside like she couldn't take back her permission.

"How are you doing, Hugh?" asked Michelangelo.

Hugh shrugged, despite the pain, and stuffed the last of his trash into the bag Nia held. "This isn't my first fractured rib. If you recall."

"That was Head Case's fault," Raphael grumbled.

"He was being reckless," added Leonardo. "Like you." The Jonin's intense eyes found the detective, who admitted they were a bit unnerving. "What's the point of having a panic button if you lose it?"

"Hey, who has the badge here?"

Raph scoffed. "'Least we got all our hands."

"Low blow coming from the pirate."

"Knock it off," Leo told the two. "This...this is a serious matter."

He didn't say any more; the droning silence that followed did well to remind Hugh of the situation's severity. ' _I had no choice except bring them here. Melody has been studying the IgRs for her research, and I didn't trust Miriam's Nightshade poison to be simple. The only doctors I trust are in this room. Besides, if Damien's set on joining the Nineteenth with me, he should be included in this fold. And Jez..._ '

The detective glanced across the room to two other cots set up for the unconscious Dominican and her boyfriend. She had persisted on sleeping at his side, so Mel conceded on the condition that she avoid his IV line.

' _Thanks to Baker and Olson, the place is beefing up their medical artillery._ '

"Are we cursed?" Mikey asked.

Don turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"The Summers. Come on, I can't be the only who feels haunted."

"That night didn't come down to just us," Leo said. "We didn't make Miriam into Nightshade. She did. She's the one who said she didn't want to be fixed; that was _her_ choice."

Hugh sympathized with the blue-masked turtle's emphatic words; they were more to convince himself than the others, and the detective nodded. "You're right, Leo. We're responsible for our own actions. Whatever Miriam and Ryan try next is on their heads, and we'll do our best to prepare for it."

"Question" Everyone faced Mikey. "Has anyone called Angel yet?"

The group made various noises, all of which sounded negative.

"I'll do it," Nia said. "She's been wanting an update on the kids anyway."

"She know about Leo's brood yet?" Hugh asked with a smirk. Leo grimaced while the detective continued, "Donny mentioned them being all boys, too. That true?" The grimaced darkened. "Oh, man, I do not envy you."

"Or poor Coyo-neechan," added Nia, brown and teal eyes glossy. "She's bed-ridden at this point."

"Damn. When's she due?"

"As early as next month," Melody interjected. "The triplets have matured on schedule, although it is unclear if her pregnancy will last longer than Nia's. She could very well hold out until after October."

"Think the number of kids affects how long the pregnancy lasts?"

"It is a theory I am working on. I might also be mistaken about her conception date."

Hugh crossed his tender arms and inhaled, focus set on Nia. "You hybrids sure make for interesting research, huh?"

The artist giggled, but the redhead and turtle at her sides unappreciated the joke. They gave matching glowers Hugh knew they'd deny were similar and low groans across the lab brought attention to Damien and Jezebel. Melody was at his IV in a heartbeat, scanning the Cadet for any abnormalities as he waved her away.

"Enough hovering," he said in a hoarse voice.

"You almost died," Melody countered. Guess that was her reason to check his vitals all over again.

"Better."

"You are still wheezing, and the hive swelling has hardly gone down."

"So slap me in some"—Damien struggled to swallow—"cortisone cream."

"Don't be a dumbass. It's more complicated than that!"

Mikey laughed. "Oh snap! She's using contractions, Damien. That's serious business."

"He'll be okay, though, right?" asked Jezebel.

The cyborg graced her with a cursorily glance while prodding parts of the Cadet's body he vainly fought to keep private. "If he listens."

"He will." Jez eyed her boyfriend with a gaze that left no room for debate.

"What about you?"

"Got a stomachache, but whatever cocktail you gave us helped with the dizziness."

"I'm not a licensed practitioner yet," Melody said. "I don't have easy access to antitoxins. It's good you reacted to my Physostigmine substitute because the alternative would've been—" The cyborg stopped when she noticed the Dominican's stare then dropped all emotion from her voice. "Well, it did not come to that."

"I think this goes to show just how much we need one another," Leonardo spoke in a tone worthy of a captain, and it earned him the attention he demanded. He scanned the group, arms crossed and gaze even. "Hugh, you were a detective before we met you. We recognize you're capable and don't mean to overstep bounds. But there are things you shouldn't have to handle on your own. Miriam's vendetta is against us all and if she's joining who I think she is then our network needs to be refined."

"What do you mean?"

Leo faced Mikey. "First, we must account for all the people we _know_ we can trust. We need secured lines, an alert, and tracking system probably not as obvious as a phone. We need better contingencies for issues like this: altered poisonings, blood loss, severe trauma." The Jonin's eyes fell on Melody, who nodded as sure as any soldier at war. "The stakes are rising," he continued. "Our children...our children deserve the best chance. Now, I know you aren't fighting for them, Jezebel and Damien. You owe us nothing. But on our behalf, we ask that you consider joining our team."

"Join you?" Damien rasped. "Man, would Hun have a—a heart attack."

"Do you want to help Mir?" Jez questioned softly.

"If you join us and that's what you want, that's what we'll help with."

The couple drew in a deep breath as Jez ran a hand down his bloated face. "Okay," she said. "We'll do it."

 _'Good_.' Hugh laid back down on his cot, eyes heavy. ' _That's two less people to mediate for. There's still the matter of what's gunna happen with my precinct, though, and...how the hell I'm going to explain all this Marina..and Wendell."_

* * *

"You know this report reads like a science fiction novel, Reese."

Hugh scratched at his chaffed neck, watching Inspector Erb study the incident report on Miriam Summers. "I have witnesses."

"All hearsay."

"Doesn't the fact that I'm a detective account for anything?"

"You know it doesn't."

"What about the fact that it's me?"

Erb removed his reading glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and placed them on his cluttered office desk. "You're a magnet for weird crap, but that isn't proof."

"Least I can say I tried."

"We can't sanction a search for Miss Summers on this account."

"But you can for her ducking out on house arrest and ignoring Court-ordained therapy sessions."

"She's in the wind all the same. But when we find her, she will be held accountable for what we _can_ prove."

"Unless she gets to Nom de Guerre first."

"Who?"

"Another ghost."

The elder cop closed the file as the detective snorted and when he looked back up, the weariness was evident in his wrinkled expression. "Go home, Reese. Rest that rib."

"One last thing." Hugh leaned forward. "Did Donna call?"

"She's entitled to her privacy."

"Come on, Inspector."

"You want to know what she decided? Visit her. I got bigger things to deal with."

"Like doing another sweep for bugs in the offices?"

Erb's face reddened, except his scowl only made his subbordinate smile. "I don't trust those EPF bastards."

"Which is why we should stick together."

"Maybe once that was possible. Now..." The fat Inspector sighed. "We're splintering. Soon, there will be a great divide between who supports Bishop and who doesn't."

"And my goal is to keep those who don't as close as possible."

"Sometimes I envy you, Reese. You oversimplify everything." Was that a compliment or insult? No matter. Hugh shook his head, straightening while Erb continued, "Don't make me utilize that EPF brute stationed outside. I'm sure your wife and son want you home, too."

Hugh's fingers found his new phone in his coat pocket, a reminder of the concerned messages Rina had texted him after he left a note telling her he was visiting work. "Fine. You win. But I'll be back."

"After your rib heals."

"Hardass." There was a light chuckle then a sudden inhale before Hugh turned the office's doorknob.

"Reese?"

The detective faced his boss.

"Just so you know: my loyalty will _always_ be to the NYPD. And before them, the Nineteenth Precinct."

"Yeah." Hugh's smile returned. "Same here."


End file.
